Unexpected Journey
by Unimaginable Possibilities
Summary: Nurélia, the first female Rider of the new generation, came to Alagaësia from a land unknown in search of Eragon and Saphira. When Galbatorix learns of her arrival, Murtagh is sent to capture her. Can he persuade her to side with evil? Read and find out..
1. Prologue

First Eragon story! Constructive criticism needed!

Summary: An egg hatches for a young woman in a land unknown. She learns of Eragon and his dragon, Saphira, and goes to Alagaësia in search of them. However, she meets Murtagh after an attack by a cloaked stranger and doesn't make it to Ellesméra where Eragon and Saphira are believed to be. Instead, they travel to Urû'baen where the dark king conspires an evil scheme involving both Riders. Can he and Murtagh persuade her to side with evil? Read and find out. . .

Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize from Christopher Paolini's books. However, I _do_ own everything you don't recognize unless otherwise stated. This disclaimer is for the entire story.

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**Unexpected Journey**

_Prologue_

_Just after Galbitorix crowned himself King of Alagaësia . . ._

Wynne gazed at the horizon, taking in the soft colors splashed across the sky caused by the early morning sun. She always loved a good sunrise. It had been a while since she was able to enjoy one. She closed her eyes as a gentle wind brushed her face and tousled her starlight-colored hair, revealing her pointed ears. She looked around, observing the grassy field on her left and the forest on her right, knowing that this place was exactly where she was meant to be. A large rock caught her eye, and she sat down upon it, resting her weary legs.

As she sat there, her mind flashed back to exactly why she was sitting alone in a land unknown to her. She had been in her elfin dreamlike state in Ellesméra when a strange image seeped its way into her unconsciousness. The vision was of the grassy field and forest she viewed presently.

In her vision, a gruff female voice echoed throughout.

"Meet me here," she had said, and then the vision disappeared. Wynne felt a sense of urgency in the familiar voice and set out as soon as possible. The place where she was to go was not in Alagaësia, nor was it in Surda, but still further south across the water. Escaping Alagaësia was a little more difficult than she expected as Galbatorix and the remaining Forsworn were searching everyone for any dragons and their eggs. Her journey had been long, but she made it and was now in waiting.

Wynne rose from the rock, suddenly aware of another presence within several yards from where she was. She carefully stared through the trees behind her, trying to locate the source of whatever it was that gave her the uneasy feeling of being watched. Though her eyes were keen, they failed her as she saw nothing but plants and trees. She opened her mind and was caught off guard by a powerful vibe emanating from a life form just past the first line of trees.

_I knew you would come_. The voice was in her head and was identical to the one from her vision. _I brought you here to ask a favor of you_, she said.

Two dark smoke clouds drifted out from the branches while the trunks groaned as a huge violet dragon's head emerged from the trees followed by the rest of its enormous body. Wynne stepped back to give it room and noted how beautiful its scales looked in the sunlight as they glittered like gems. The elf was not afraid but gazed at the magnificent beast in awe. It was much wilder looking than the dragons of the Riders. Wynne smiled.

"Anything for a dragon," she replied. "Especially you, Vervada." Vervada seemed pleased and then turned her attention to something behind her. Wynne followed her gaze. Her tail was wrapped around something that Wynne didn't notice was there until now. The dragon brought it toward her and gently placed the object in Wynne's outstretched arms. She knew what it was at once and stared at the thing in admiration and wonder. It was a fire-orange egg with lines of gray that spider-webbed around it. She looked up at the dragon with curiosity in her eyes.

"I don't understand."

_As you well know, the human king is after all dragons and their eggs, _she explained._ He knows of me and will soon destroy me. I have seen it. My egg, however, he does not know of, because I've been in hiding since I knew I was expecting. Now that it has been laid, there is very little I can do to protect it. That is where you come in._

"You want me to raise a wild dragon?" she asked. Vervada shook her enormous head.

_I'm giving it to the Riders. I know that you are one of the few who know the spells to keep the young dragon in his or her egg. _

"I thought the sapphire egg was going to be the only egg you were going to give to the Riders?"

_Yes, _she replied._ But as you can see, times change. If there was some way to escape Fate, then I would have no need to ask of your help; however, to do so is impossible. Therefore, I am now here before you. _

Wynne reviewed her words several times in her head, but something still bothered her. "Vervada?"

_Yes?_

"Out of all the other elves who know the incantations, why did you choose me?" she asked, watching the dragon carefully so as to catch the slightest emotion. Wynne swore she saw her smile.

_Along with knowing of my own terrible demise, I have also been blessed with a vision of my hatchling's Rider, which is why I'm giving my egg to them . . . and you. _

"You mean, I am—?" Vervada shook her head, cutting Wynne's sentence short.

_No, one of your descendants._ Wynne stared at her with confusion.

"Mine? But, I don't have any children."

_Not yet_.

Wynne gaped at her in disbelief. An awkward silence passed between them until Vervada spoke.

_Before I leave, you must promise me one thing_, she said in a serious tone.

"What is it?" Wynne asked.

_Galbatorix is searching for any sign of a dragon or an egg, and because of this, you must stay in this land._

"You mean, away from Alagaësia? For how long?"

_As long as it takes for the egg to hatch. The time will pass by much quicker than you think._

Wynne thought about what that would mean. She would have to leave her fellow elves, her family, her friends, her home. And for how long? Years? Decades? Perhaps even centuries? She wasn't sure she would be strong enough for that. Vervada brought her huge head right in front of Wynne and placed her snout on her forehead. Wynne felt peace and strength surge through her.

With a new determination in her voice, she answered, "I promise."

_Thank you, Wynne-elda. May the stars watch over you._

The violet dragon spread her enormous wings and flew off to accept her fate. Wynne watched her until she was a tiny dot in the distant horizon, her own fate resting heavily upon her shoulders, or rather, in her hands. Finally accepting her task wholeheartedly, she embraced the egg.

"Don't worry, little one," she whispered to it. "I'll protect you."

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Please review! 


	2. Chapter One

Thank you so much to my two reviewers! I hope you continue to like my story!

Disclaimer: See _Prologue_

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_Chapter One_

_Several months before Eragon discovers Saphira's egg . . ._

Wynne looked up through the trees at the sky, noting the time by the sun's placement. Her son was late. She grew increasingly impatient as the time dragged on and there was still no sign of him or her granddaughter. Her granddaughter was the reason for her excitement. This will be the first time actually meeting her. Plus, ever since she was born, Wynne had eagerly waited for the time when she'd get to introduce her to the egg. She had tried to set her son up with the egg when he was small, but the dragon didn't choose him. Wynne was greatly disappointed. Not in her son, of course, for he had no choice in the matter. She was upset that she had to wait even longer for her son to have children and for them to grow before she could see one of her descendents as a Rider. Suddenly, a disconcerting thought struck her: What if Vervada meant one of her descendents in the much later future? Would she ever get to see him or her as a Rider? She bit her lip as she thought of how long that could be.

The sound of hooves upon the road not far off from her home interrupted those thoughts, and her excitement surged through her once more. She looked through the trees to see two horses approaching her with two figures, one about two-thirds the size of the other, upon them. Wynne smiled broadly as she recognized the taller one as her son, his long starlight hair glistening in the sunlight. He was a spitting image of her except for his strong jaw and broad shoulders. He also aged a little quicker than she, making it look as though they were sister and brother instead of mother and son. The smaller figure was, of course, her granddaughter.

Wynne had grown skeptical of Vervada's words of her having children. She knew that she was the only elf in this land and thought that no human could ever tempt her, but that was before she met her son's father. He was a General in the military. The first time she saw him was in his uniform, and he made her heart throb and her knees weak; especially when he smiled. She was miserable for months when he died in the war against the neighboring country when her son was only ten.

Her son helped his daughter off of the horse, and they walked up to Wynne. The young woman had long light brown tresses that framed her human-like face. Only her eyes – a brilliant greenish-hazel – resembled the shape of an elf's.

"Why, she looks just like her mother," Wynne said.

"Yep," answered her son. "All except for her eyes and ears. Show your grandmother your ears, honey." The young woman rolled her eyes at her dad and then tucked her thick hair behind her ears, showing their slightly pointed peaks. Her father beamed.

"How old are you now, dear?" Wynne asked her.

"Fifteen," she replied. "I'll be sixteen in a month." She was quiet for a moment, and then she blurted, "Are you really my grandmother?"

"Nurélia!" her father scolded. Nurélia gave him an innocent look.

"No, it's all right," Wynne told him. She turned to the young woman with a smile. "Of course I am. Why do you ask?"

"Because you don't look old enough to be my grandmother. _My dad_ looks older than you do," she said, alternating glances between her father and Wynne.

"Did your dad ever tell you what I am?"

"Yes, but the people in our village say that elves are a myth; that they don't exist."

"Well, what do you believe?"

Nurélia's face scrunched up in thought. After several seconds, she replied, "My dad doesn't lie, so elves have to exist, because we exist. Besides, how else can they explain our pointed ears?" Wynne smiled.

"Elves look as old as we want to," she explained. "We're immortal."

"And Dad and I?"

"Well, I don't know. There haven't been many elf-human couples, let alone children from them. I'd imagine that you'll live longer than the normal life span of humans, but I don't think you'll have immortality."

"That's alright. I think it would be hard, anyway," Nurélia said.

"What would, dear?"

"Immortality."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, you'll live longer than my dad, and when I grow older and have kids, you'll out live us too and so on. I don't know if I could handle watching my loved ones die while I barely aged." Wynne stood in silence. She couldn't think of anything to say, because if Nurélia became a Rider as Wynne was hoping, then that's exactly what she'd have to do unless she married an elf . . . or another Rider.

"I'm going to go tie up the horses," her son said after awhile, breaking the tension. "I'll meet you two inside."

... ... ... ... ...

Nurélia gazed up at the house, noticing for the first time that there _was_ a house in the giant tree that was before her. Stairs were carved into the trunk, spiraling several feet up to a small wooden house in the tree's branches.

"Are you coming?" her grandmother asked, a smile playing on her lips. She was already half way up the stairs. Nurélia nodded, walking forward to begin her climb. The stairs were quite steep, but she ascended them with little difficulty, using the smooth hand rail for support. Inside, the house felt comfortable with pictures of her father growing up and a couple pictures of a handsome gentleman in a dark green military uniform.

"Was this Grandpa?" she asked, picking up a portrait of the man. Wynne nodded. Nurélia studied the picture. "How was this made? I can't even see the brush strokes." Her grandmother smiled.

"It's called a fairth, and it was made by magic," she explained.

"Wow, that's really neat," Nurélia replied. She was on the verge of asking her grandmother if she did them herself, when her father came through the door with his arms full of her belongings, which distracted her. She was thrilled to finally be able to meet her grandmother, since her father always raved about how great she was. The problem was how far away they lived from each other. The distance between the two houses was equivalent to four full days and nights on horseback. Plus, her father couldn't really leave his shop for too long, but since he found an assistant he could trust, he could finally take her to see her grandmother.

Her father grunted as he laid down her belongings next to the door. "Is all of this really necessary? You're only going to be staying here for a month," he said. Nurélia grinned while her grandmother laughed.

"Of course it is," Wynne replied with amusement. "This is her first time so far away from home and with a woman she hardly knows. When I came here, I surrounded myself with things that reminded me of my home." Nurélia nodded.

"Exactly. Plus, I'm a young woman and need everything I brought. My clothes, my books, my –" Her father held up his hand.

"All right, all right. It looks like I'm outnumbered here." Nurélia beamed at her grandmother, who returned the smile.

"You may put her things in your old room, dear," her grandmother told him. "I've fixed it up for her."

"I just set them down," he complained playfully as he picked them back up and headed down the hall. She turned to Nurélia. "Go ahead and go with him. He can show you around."

"Okay." After the brief tour and a dinner of nothing but fruits and vegetables, which was nothing unusual to Nurélia as they ate the same way at home, her dad stood and readied himself to leave.

"Well," he began, "if you don't need anything else, I suppose I should be going. I don't want your mother to worry more than she already is. Now get over here and give your old dad a hug."

Nurélia giggled. "Aw come on, Dad. You're not that old."

"No? Huh, sure feels like it with such a grown up young lady for a daughter."

"Yes, so you can imagine how old I feel," her grandmother added. They all laughed. Nurélia buried her face in her father's shoulder.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear.

"I love you, too, Dad," she replied, her eyes glistening with tears.

"Now you listen to your grandmother." Nurélia nodded. "And have fun. I'll be back to pick you up in a month." Then, he embraced his mother. "It was good to see you again, Mom. Keep in touch," he added with a wink and he kissed her on the forehead. Nurélia looked at them with a confused expression.

"What do you mean 'keep in touch'? How?" Her grandmother smiled.

"Through our minds. I could teach you if you want," she said.

"Yes, please!" Nurélia answered enthusiastically. Her father laughed and then headed toward the door.

"Well, goodbye!" he said. "I'll see you soon!"

"'Bye, Dad! Be safe!" The women followed him out, but stayed atop the stairs. He mounted his horse and urged her forward, while Nurélia's horse walked beside them.

"So," her grandmother began after they watched him disappear in the distance, "you must be tired after traveling for so long. If you want to go to sleep, I won't be offended," she said with a smile. "Or you're welcome to explore the house in greater detail if you like. I noticed that your father only told you what and where the rooms are."

"Okay," Nurélia replied. "Thanks . . . Grandma?" she said uncertainly. " . . . I'm sorry. It just feels so weird calling you 'grandma' when you barely look over 35."

"Perhaps you'd prefer 'Aunt Wynne' instead?" Wynne offered. Nurélia nodded her head.

"Yeah, okay. Aunt Wynne. That sounds much better. Umm . . . so, I think I'll look around."

Wynne smiled after her as Nurélia strolled down the hallway. The girl paused in the doorways to look around, and then left to explore a different room. Instead of stopping in the doorway of the study, however, she walked right in. It was cozy, filled with shelves of scrolls and spare bits of parchment. An average-sized desk was set just under the only window that looked out upon the northern part of the forest. On her right was a squashy dark green couch, a small table that barely came up to her knees was before the couch, and a rocking chair was in the corner. The rocking chair was by far her favorite piece in the room. It had a carved picture in the back of the chair of a large dragon gazing down at an elf with his long hair splayed on his left, making it look as though it were blowing in the wind.

She was about to exit the room when something caught her eye. It was a cloth, covering an object of some sort that appeared to have a rounded shape. The object was placed on a shelf above a picture of a rather large violet dragon. She walked over to it, reaching for the cloth. Her fingers grasped the light, silky fabric and gently pulled on it to reveal what was underneath. As she did so, she accidentally knocked the object off balance. Her heart caught in her throat as she watched the object fall. The noise seemed deafening as a large, fire-orange orb shattered on the floor.

"Oh no!" she cried. Her grandmother ran into the room.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice calm.

"Oh, Aunt Wynne! I'm so sorry!" Nurélia replied, not being able to look her in the eyes. "I was curious to see what was under the cloth, but now I won't even know what it was because its shattered pieces are all over the floor. I'm _really_ sorry."

"Don't worry about it. It's easily fixed," Wynne reassured her. She muttered something in a language Nurélia wasn't familiar with, and the orb put itself back together. Her grandmother picked it up. "Close your mouth, Nurélia," she said, amused. "A bird might mistake it for a new home." The girl snapped her jaw shut.

After a few moments, Nurélia began breathlessly, "Aunt Wynne, you know magic?"

"Of course I know magic. Whom do you think made all those fairths in my living room? All elves practice magic, and I can teach you if you like." Nurélia didn't know what to say. She nodded, her eyes dancing with excitement. Wynne smiled. "Great! We'll start first thing tomorrow."

Thus began Nurélia's lessons in the Ancient Language and the history of magic. Almost a month had passed, and Nurélia was absorbing the Language like a sponge, but Wynne still wouldn't let her practice any magic. Nurélia was disappointed because of this, since her father was going to pick her up in a week, and she wanted to show him what she could do.

"Come on, Aunt Wynne," she begged in the Ancient Language – one of her grandmother's many rules. To help Nurélia learn faster, she was only allowed to speak to her in the Language. "Just one tiny spell?"

"No," her grandmother replied in the Language. "You know my rule about magic. Not until you can speak the Language fluently will you be allowed even the most minuscule spell."

"But I'm speaking the Language right now," she complained, barely comprehending several words in her grandmother's last sentence. She was pretty good at guessing what some words meant even if she didn't recognize them. Then later, she would search for the words in her translation guide, but she wasn't going to tell to her grandmother that.

"Not fluently. You're stumbling over your words."

"What about for my birthday? It's nearly here," she said, abandoning the Language altogether.

"Nope. You can't even be consistent in one language. I've noticed that you've been alternating between the two. Besides, I have something else planned for your birthday."

"Really?" she exclaimed. "What?"

"You'll see," she replied with a smile. Nurélia playfully pouted. She was too excited to really be upset.

Two days before Nurélia's sixteenth birthday, Wynne called her into the study. She was on her rocking chair, holding the oval-shaped orange object. Nurélia sat on the couch.

"Do you remember the day you accidentally broke this?" she asked, holding up the object. Nurélia nodded. "Did I ever explain to you what it was?"

"No, and I think I was too overwhelmed that you knew magic to ask," she said.

"_This_ is a glass replica of something much greater. The original is hidden in the forest. Would you like to see the real thing?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.

"Uh, sure, but what is it exactly?"

"A dragon's egg," she half whispered. Nurélia's eyes grew wide.

"Really? Oh, Aunt Wynne! That is so amazing! And I can really go and see it?"

"Yes, but only you."

"Why?"

"Do you remember the stories of the Dragon Riders?" Nurélia nodded her head enthusiastically, putting together what her grandmother was trying to tell her. "Well," Wynne continued, "the egg was given to me so I could place spells on it for the dragon not to hatch until a person worthy enough to be a Rider would touch the egg. I was told by the egg's mother, Vervada, that the Rider would be one of my descendants."

"You mean that _I_ could be a Rider?" Nurélia asked eagerly. "That's awesome!"

"Careful though, dear," her grandmother warned. "Don't get too excited. You see, Vervada never specified which generation the egg will hatch under. For all we know, the egg could be intended for one of your children or one of their children and so on." Nurélia's smile faltered. Wynne looked sympathetic. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just don't want you to get your hopes up and then have them crushed."

"I understand," she replied, trying her best to suppress her slight disappointment. "But even if it doesn't hatch for me, I can still say that I've seen a real dragon's egg." Wynne smiled, admiring her granddaughter's optimism.

"Now, listen to my instructions carefully."

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**A/N:** I hope the whole concept of Nurélia calling her grandmother 'aunt' didn't confuse you. I've known some women who thought the term 'grandmother' made them seem too old and would prefer the term 'aunt' instead. I went with Nurélia calling _her_ grandmother 'aunt', because she didn't think that the term fit her as she looked too young for the term to be applied.

By the way, it probably seems a bit slow now, but it'll speed up in Chapter Two and really surge forward in Chapter Three. Thanks for reading!

Please review!!


	3. Chapter Two

Thanks to my two reviewers! You both are awesome!

Disclaimer: See _Prologue_.

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_Chapter Two_

_Still several months before Eragon discovers Saphira's egg . . ._

Nurélia awoke to her grandmother's soft voice telling her that it was time to get up. She lazily slid out of bed and dressed, making sure to remember her cloak just in case it grew cold on her journey through the forest. She ate a huge breakfast – compliments of her grandmother – picked up her previously packed bag that she put by the door last night, and then set out for her journey. Squinting in the early morning sun, she descended the stairs and went over her grandmother's directions once more of how to get to the egg.

_Okay, I follow the middle path through the trees until I get to the fork and go left – no wait, or was it right? – no, left was right – I mean correct. Ack! Okay, so I go left, and then keep walking until I see an oval engraving in a tree on my right, right? Or was it an oval-shaped rock by a tree on my right? Oh! This is hopeless! I really stink at remembering directions. Why couldn't she just write them down?_

Nurélia knew very well why not; she was just afraid of becoming lost in the unfamiliar forest. If those directions were to fall into another's hands and he or she steals the egg, who's to say the dragon will ever hatch with it being away from her grandmother's descending line?

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she turned to her right and faced the three paths that led into the forest. Her stomach fluttered madly as took the middle one, officially beginning her journey to the egg – and perhaps her future. When she came to the fork, she made for the left path without a second thought and continued on. The sun had already begun to beat down its unearthly heat even though it was still quite early. Nurélia was thankful for the trees' protection as she walked under their enormous limbs. She marveled at the forest's beauty, observed only by the tiny rays of sunlight that shone through the gaps from the leaves above. Suddenly, she noticed a clearing up ahead, not remembering it being in her grandmother's directions. She quickened her pace, anxious to see what lay ahead, and then stopped abrupt, staring with wide eyes at the scene before her. She was too busy gaping at the forest that she didn't pay attention to the slight curving of the path, which led back to her grandmother's home.

Nurélia fumed as she again made for the middle path, noticing the sun's higher placement in the sky and cursing the time lost. When she came to the fork for the second time, she took the path on the right and glared at the path going left as though it was its fault she went the wrong way. Eventually though, her anger began to dissipate while she walked further on. She realized that she couldn't stay angry, since she was heading toward a real dragon's egg and maybe, if she was lucky, a real dragon. She briefly glanced over every tree she passed, looking for either the oval engraving or the oval-shaped rock since she was uncertain of which one it actually was. After walking for what felt like ages, she finally spotted an oval engraving in a small boulder at the base of a tree on her left.

_Of course! _she exclaimed, thumping her forehead with the palm of her hand._ It was an engraving of the egg in the rock!_ She laughed aloud as she thought of her guesses from before. Then she realized that the rock was below a tree on her left, not her right. She laughed again. _I must have gotten the path and the tree mixed up, _she thought, finally understanding. She studied all around the rock until she found a path leading away from the main one. It was almost indistinct, but her keen elf eyes discovered it with ease. She walked along the path for only a few minutes before suddenly becoming aware of a very faint hum of a waterfall. She listened carefully, remembering her grandmother's directions of the egg being around – or possibly next to a waterfall. She began to rely on the sound leading her to the egg instead of the path and then realized that the path ended as soon as she could hear the waterfall anyway.

She walked toward the waterfall for what felt like miles, noting that the sun had already passed midday and was now sinking lower and lower. The forest grew thick around her and for quite some time, she had to push through bushes and long grasses until finally, she found herself before an enormous waterfall. It was remarkable, towering at no less than one hundred feet and expanding over thirty feet in width. The noise was almost deafening as the water crashed down upon the clear, blue pool underneath. Night came quickly as she stood there just gaping at its magnificence. A bird squawked behind her, pulling her out of her trance-like state and forcing her observe the darkness around her at last. She was thankful for her ability to see in the dark, a trait she learned she had because of her being part elf. Finally remembering the final directions that her grandmother gave her, she walked around the pool until she was next to the waterfall and discreetly slipped into the hidden cave behind it.

It was strange being behind the waterfall as she couldn't hear its constant noise. When her shock of total silence began to ebb away, coming to the conclusion that her grandmother placed a spell silencing the room, she turned to look around. Her jaw dropped, for in the very middle of the room was a pedestal – and upon the pedestal was the egg. Excitement surged through her as she walked over and picked it up. The egg was a bright fire-orange color and had lines of gray that spider-webbed around it. The only difference from that of its replica was that the egg weighed several times more; though it wasn't as heavy as Nurélia thought it was going to be. Suddenly, a faint humming noise began to fill the silence of the room. Her face contorted in confusion as she looked around for the source of the sound, her eyes finally resting upon the egg. She held it to her ear. The humming grew louder, but not by much. She shrugged her shoulders and put the egg back on the pedestal.

Shivering slightly, she brought out her cloak and wrapped it around her. Then, she unrolled her blankets and placed them near the egg. Her grandmother's instructions were for her to touch the egg, and then stay the night there in hopes that the dragon would hatch. So far, the egg looked exactly as it had when she first arrived. She searched her pack for her food and ate her dinner, watching the egg carefully for the slightest difference. After awhile, she gave up and went to sleep.

When she arose the next morning, she gazed over at the pedestal, noting the unaffected egg still intact. Sighing, she gathered her supplies, ate a quick breakfast, and strode over to the egg one last time. She rested a hand on its peak.

"Well," she said, sighing. "At least I got to see you. Astra du evarínya ono varda." She touched two fingers to her lips – a gesture her grandmother taught her as the elven manner of respect – and then exited the cave.

She found that making her way back was much easier than finding the place. It was only midday when she stopped to relax at the boulder with the engraved egg, figuring that her grandmother probably wouldn't expect her back so soon. She sat up quickly as a loud squeak resounded throughout the forest.

_What in the world?_ she thought, looking around. The squeak was like nothing she ever heard before, and, in a way, it frightened her not knowing exactly what kind of creature made that sort of sound. Granted, it didn't sound very big, but even the smallest creatures could be deadly. Without warning, a flash of orange swept through the bushes. Nurélia's first thought was fire, but as it continued on its way over to her without burning anything and only rising less than a foot off the ground, she was forced to reconsider. She squinted her eyes to try and make out what it could possibly be as it drew nearer. Finally, she realized what it was.

The baby dragon stared at her with its light gray eyes. Its fire-orange scales glistened in the morning sun as it explored its surroundings now that it had caught up with her. Dark gray spikes lined its spine from its head to the tip of its tail, leaving a small gap from its shoulders to the middle of its back. Nurélia gazed at it in wonder, then kneeled and stretched out her left hand toward the dragon. It sniffed her finger tips and then brushed itself upon the palm of her hand, arching its back like a cat. Pain unlike anything she had ever experienced shot up her arm, giving it a numb feeling. Her screams echoed throughout the forest, frightening the animals and making the birds take flight. The dragon hissed as it backed away from her with its eyes tightly closed. She leaned against a huge fallen tree that lay behind her; a stream of curses smoothly escaped from her mouth while tears blurred her vision. She closed her eyes, and the tears fell.

At long last, the pain began to diminish, and a faint, unfamiliar presence seemed to whisper across her conscious. She shook her head to try and rid herself of the strange new feeling, but it was as though the feeling was now apart of her. She looked around and found the dragon a couple of inches from her toes. She drew back her foot from the animal for fear that it would cause her pain again. Her hand still throbbed. She glared at the dragon while it looked at her with confusion in its huge gray eyes. She held up her hand to examine it and gasped. A silvery-gray mark that strongly resembled a smaller shape of the dragon egg was upon it.

She stared down at the dragon, but it wasn't paying any attention to her anymore. It was watching a bird fluff its feathers on a branch several feet above. She felt a strong need for food pass by her consciousness, knowing that she wasn't the one who was hungry. _It must have been the dragon,_ she concluded, feeling awkward that she know knew what the dragon was feeling. She was told that a Rider's and dragon's bond was strong, but she had no idea that this is what they meant by it. Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice from inside her head.

_Hurry back, Nurélia, _it said excitedly. The voice scared her at first, but then she realized why it seemed so familiar.

_Aunt Wynne?_ she thought.

_Yes,_ was her grandmother's simple answer.

_Neat. So this is how thought communication works. Why haven't we done this before?_ Nurélia asked, her excitement making her forget to speak in the Ancient Language.

_We haven't ever needed a reason to, but now I'm quite anxious to see your new companion. I'll be awaiting your arrival._ Then her voice was gone.

She was confused with how her grandmother knew the dragon hatched for her and Eager to understand, Nurélia looked for the dragon. It was trying to figure out how to climb the tree to get to the bird, its front claws on the trunk. She rolled her eyes.

"Come on," she told it impatiently. "We don't have time for you to hone your bird hunting skills, or lack there of." It cocked its head at her, confusion passing through their bond. She turned her back on it and headed for her grandmother's house, hoping that the dragon would follow. She looked over her shoulder and found it trying to keep up with her long strides. When the house came into view, she found her grandmother outside waiting for her as she said. The elf wore a big smile, her eyes sparkling with delight – then she noted the disregard Nurélia was showing toward the dragon and frowned.

"Why, what's the matter, dear? I thought you'd be thrilled to become a Dragon Rider," she said, reverting to Nurélia's native language so the girl would understand every word. She knew about her granddaughter's pretending to understand every word and looking them up later. _And she thought I didn't know_, she thought smiling to herself.

"Yeah, well that was before the dragon did something to me. All I did was touch the dreadful creature and pain shot through my arm! It hurt to the point where I fainted, and now I can't get this constant humming out of my head. Plus, the place where the dragon touched me left a strange silver marking on my palm," she complained, showing her left hand to her grandmother.

"The gedwëy ignasia," she said almost breathlessly.

"The 'shining palm'? That's original," she said sarcastically, receiving a harsh glare from her grandmother.

"Do _not_ disrespect the ways of the Riders," she reprimanded. "I don't see how you can be so unpleasant at a time like this. I didn't think that I would even be able to see the egg hatch, so you could imagine my excitement. Why can't you feel the same?" Nurélia looked down at the dragon, then back to her grandmother.

"That reminds me, how did you even know the egg hatched? And how does the dragon know what I'm saying to it?" she inquired.

"First of all, this magnificent little creature is male, so you will do well to refer to _him_ as such," Wynne scolded her. "Dragons are as intelligent as you or I and have great wisdom even at the age of their hatching. You will do well to respect them."

"Oh. . . . Sorry."

"Don't apologize to me. He's the one who deserves it," she said, pointing to the dragon. Nurélia looked down at him. She felt a little ridiculous apologizing to an animal but did so anyway – _only _out of respect for her grandmother, though.

"Second," Wynne continued after her granddaughter muttered an apology. "The constant humming in your head is from the unique bond that you and the dragon share, which is shown by your gedwëy ignasia. The bond enables you to open your mind to hear what he is saying, because dragons can't talk through their mouths like you or I can. He can't say anything yet, not knowing our language, so you only sense what he is feeling until he learns enough of our language to speak for himself. And third, I knew about the hatching because I was keeping track of where you were to make sure you didn't come by any trouble."

"So, you were spying on me."

"I was watching over you. There's a difference," Wynne said defensively. "Now, there are rules and defenses that you need to understand with learning how to communicate through thought. First and foremost, a mind is a person's sanctuary. Never invade someone's thoughts unless absolutely necessary." Nurélia nodded her head in understanding. "Also, in your advanced training, you will learn how to broaden your mind to a great extent, which will come in handy if ever needed. In addition to this, you must also learn how to block your mind from unwanted visitors. If in a battle of magic, your opponent will want to invade your mind to gain advantage, resulting in death." Nurélia's eyes grew wide.

"Death?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear. I didn't mean to frighten you. In any case, you understand my point."

"Yeah," she replied, giving a nervous chuckle. "Let's change the subject, m'kay? . . . So, can I communicate with animals or insects?" Her grandmother shook her head.

"Not exactly. No insect has the mentality, but you can feel their urges instead of thoughts. As for most animals, they can't make conversation, but again, you can feel their urges."

"But there _are_ animals that are intelligent enough?"

"Yes, of course. There's the werecat, for example. They are impressive creatures. I only met one in my life so far. She lives with the elves in Ellesméra."

"A werecat," Nurélia repeated. "Neat."

"And last, but certainly not least, you must always remember that the dragon chose you and no one else. Don't doubt his judgment."

Nurélia's eyebrows furrowed at this last comment. Why her? She was the daughter of middle-class parents, who owned a small but popular business of making beautiful pieces of furniture. Not exactly anyone special. The dragon brushed up against her leg, and she bent down to pick him up. This time, no pain came to her. He curled up in her arms and hummed. She had to admit, he _was_ pretty darn cute. Nurélia smiled, adopting a completely different attitude toward him than when she first found him.

"You still have to give him a name."

"Oh, right . . . " She thought for a moment, and then turned back to her grandmother. "I can't think of a name on the spot. I'll figure one out later." The dragon stirred in her arms, and she put him back down. She watched as he wandered around in search of something.

"I think he's hungry," she told Wynne. "He was trying to climb a tree to get to a bird earlier."

"Yes, well he can hunt for himself. It's instinctive," her grandmother told her. "Just follow him wherever he goes, so he doesn't wander into any danger. He's only the size of a cat after all."

Nurélia began to follow after her dragon when Wynne called after her.

"And Nurélia." The girl turned to face her grandmother. "Happy Birthday," the elf said. They smiled at each other briefly, and then Nurélia turned back to her dragon, who was pouncing after a small rabbit.

That night, after her dragon and she both had their very divergent dinners, Nurélia sat at her desk writing a letter to her family. Her last letter was sent only a few days ago, but she had much to tell, thinking of how proud her dad will be of her being a Rider. She gazed over at her dragon. He was fast asleep on her bed, his bright scales glowing slightly by the faint light of her candle. She was reminded of her first impression of him, and an idea for a name suddenly came to her. She gently nudged him awake, his big gray eyes staring up at her in askance.

"I think I've found a name for you," she whispered. "Since your scales resemble fire, what do you think of the name 'Blaze'?" The dragon cocked his head, confusion coming through their connection for once again.

"Oh, that's right," she said somewhat disappointed. "You have no idea what I'm saying do you?" As he stared at her, she could have sworn he was smiling, apparently finding her attempt in communication amusing.

"Well I'm glad you're entertained by this," she said, making him squeak at her. She laughed and scratched him under his chin. His eyes closed halfway while his humming grew louder. Nurélia smiled. She put the letter and pen away to lay upon her bed, her dragon at her feet. He got up to nestle right next to her belly, and a smile found its way upon her lips once more before falling asleep to his gentle humming.

... ... ... ... ...

A week had passed and Nurélia's father was due any moment. She wrung her hands impatiently. At the sound of hooves, she bolted out of the house and sped down the stairs, almost tripping down them twice. Her father's horse cantered into view and she ran to meet them. He slid off his horse and embraced his daughter for the first time in a month.

"I've missed you," he whispered into her ear.

"And I you! Come into the house," she said pulling his arm toward the tree. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Once inside, her dragon came to meet him. They examined each other for a while before the dragon let her father touch him. "He's so amazing!"

"Yeah, and he grows like a weed," Nurélia added, watching her dragon, who had doubled in size, enjoy her father's scratching between his shoulders where there weren't any spikes.

"What's his name?"

Nurélia bit her lip. "Well, it's been difficult for him to learn two languages at once, so I haven't been able to ask him what he wants to be called yet," she explained. Her father stared down at him.

"I think he's ready to tell us, aren't you?" The dragon looked up at him and then directed his attention to Nurélia, who sensed his uncertainty.

"I don't think he understands yet, Dad."

"Have you asked him lately?"

"No," she replied. Nurélia smirked, knowing that he would persist on the subject until she did what he wanted.

"Well?"

"All right, fine; but don't expect anything. He's only a week old after all."

"Perhaps you should give him a bit more credit," Aunt Wynne chimed in.

"Oh great, now you're on his side?" Her grandmother gave her a sheepish smile.

"I'm curious, too," she admitted. Nurélia turned from them and focused on her dragon, who looked up at her with his big gray eyes. She sat down in front of him so that they were eye level.

"What would you like to be called?" she asked him. He cocked his head in his way for not completely understanding. "Do you like the name I suggested earlier?" She felt his confusion grow and shook her head. This was pointless. He doesn't understand the language yet. She sighed, deciding to try one last time. "Do you like 'Blaze'?" He was silent for a while. Nurélia looked to her father and grandmother. "Nothing. I told you, he doesn—"

_Blaze my name?_ came a rough but gentle voice through the connection with her dragon.

Her head snapped back to him, her mouth slightly hanging open. _Um, only if you want it to be._

_What Blaze mean?_

_Fire,_ she said simply. She sensed a pensive nature come over him, and then he nodded once in approval.

_Yes, Blaze good._ She gave a short laugh and shook her head, completely bewildered.

"Well? What did he say?" her father persisted. She turned to them, smiling.

"Blaze," she replied. "His name is Blaze."

"Aha! You see? I knew he could tell us."

"Yes, Dad. You were right," she said monotonously.

"Of course I was," he replied with a grin. Nurélia and her grandmother exchanged looks and rolled their eyes, laughing.

Her father stayed for a few days, but then eventually had to return to her mother and his shop. He packed up his things to go back home, leaving Nurélia behind. She and Blaze were to remain with her grandmother to learn all they could about the Riders, the dragons and their ways. Nurélia was ecstatic but knew her father couldn't come to see them all the time. However, once she learned how to broaden her mind, it allowed her and her father to speak every couple of days.

* * *

Yea! Nurélia has her dragon :D

By the way, I know it probably seems that Nurélia is a MarySue right now, and I apologize, but I promise that as the story progresses, she will have more faults besides a poor sense of direction and a slightly bad temperament. It _is_ only the second chapter after all.

Please review!!


	4. Chapter Three

Thanks to my four reviewers!

Disclaimer: See _Prologue_

**A/N:** Keep in mind that Nurélia, Blaze and Wynne speak only in the Ancient Language. As I'm no Christopher Paolini, it is easier for me to write their conversations in English.

* * *

_Chapter Three_

_Days after the Battle of the Burning Plains . . ._

Nurélia sat on her bed reading a scroll of elven poetry that her grandmother gave her to read the night before.

"Nurélia?" called Wynne.

_Just one more stanza,_ she thought to herself. Blaze overheard her.

_You're going to get in trouble if you don't go now,_ he said.

"Nurélia!"

_Told you._

_Oh, hush. Who asked you, anyway? _"Coming," she shouted. She put down the scroll and made her way to her grandmother's study.

"What took you?" Wynne asked as soon as Nurélia stepped through the doorway.

"Sorry. I was trying to finish a poem," she replied.

Wynne waved her apology, "Never mind; where's Blaze? This concerns him too."

_I'm here_, he projected to her and Nurélia. He had to listen from the base of the tree, as he was way too big for him to fit inside the small house anymore, measuring more than the size of the house itself.

"Good," she said, her expression full of excitement. "Now, listen; I've just received word of a new Rider in Alagaësia."

Nurélia's eyes lit up. "Really? Oh! May Blaze and I go there? Please?" she asked eagerly.

"I was thinking about it." Nurélia squealed. "Perhaps you two can go train with Oromis-elda and Glaedr in Ellesméra, as well. Besides, it would be good for you to interact with other Riders and Blaze with other dragons, especially if one is his relation."

"His relation?" Nurélia repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if I'm not mistaken, the new Rider's dragon is sapphire, which was the color of the egg that Blaze's dam, Vervada, gave to the Riders before giving me Blaze's."

_Blaze, did you hear?_

_Of course I heard, _he replied in a monotonous tone._ She was talking to me as well._

_And aren't you the least bit excited? Your sibling isn't in Galbatorix's possession anymore._ He remained silent. _I know you're excited, _she continued._ I can feel it._

_Perhaps a little._

Nurélia rolled her eyes and smiled. _You're impossible. I know _I'm_ excited . . . Instead of only looking forward to meeting Oromis-elda, we get to meet another Rider who is actually around my age. _She beamed at the thought, and then turned to her grandmother.

"Do you know what their names are by chance?"

"I believe the Rider's name is Eragon and his dragon is Saphira."

"Eragon? As in the first Dragon Rider ever?" she asked, her voice tinted slightly with disappointment. Her grandmother caught it.

"You sound disappointed. What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's nothing, really. I was only hoping that the Rider would be a girl. We'd probably have more in common if he were."

"You'd be surprised. One of my best friends was male, an elf named Lifaen."

"Really?" Nurélia's expression was pensive.

"What are you thinking, dear?" her grandmother asked, obviously knowing that look.

"Well, it's just that – it must have been really hard for you to leave all of your friends and family to live here."

"Yes, but what came out of my moving here was very worth it." She embraced her granddaughter. Nurélia smiled and returned her grandmother's hug.

"Now," Wynne began, pulling apart and placing her hands on Nurélia's shoulders. "You have a lot ahead of you if you want to leave for Alagaësia within a couple of months."

"A couple of months? Why will take so long? I have Blaze."

"Blaze alone would be able to fly there, but not with you. If I remember correctly, it took me about a month and a half to get here by ship, meaning that it would _at least_ take a week on dragon back. You would have to stretch your legs after awhile – not to mention sleep. . . . Actually, with the way Blaze eats, he probably wouldn't make it alone, either."

Nurélia smiled weakly at this, knowing it was true, but then her shoulders slumped. "I was hoping we would get there within a couple of days."

Wynne shook her head. "Sorry, but there is just no way. We will have to have a ship built large enough to accommodate Blaze's size. I'll have to use my magic to keep the ship buoyant with Blaze's massive weight upon it. We'll need a crew, which might prove difficult to acquire considering the distance and time. Unless, of course, they do not wish to return, but that's highly unlikely."

"Do we _have_ to have a crew? Couldn't we just guide the ship by magic?" Nurélia asked. Wynne thought for a moment.

"I don't know," she said slowly. "I'll have to look into that, but I don't think it's probable. I mean, the amount of energy that something like that would take . . . and then there is the possible threat of a storm, which will take even more energy . . . I just don't think that it would work." Crushed, Nurélia tried a different approach.

"Well, then what's the least amount of people we need?" Wynne silently counted on her fingers.

"Probably about ten," she replied.

"Then let's get to work!" Nurélia exclaimed with enthusiasm.

They found quite a few shipwrights who were eager to help after Wynne promised them triple their original pay, since they were to build it quickly. However, they were having trouble gathering a crew. Nurélia brought this up with her grandmother.

"Aunt Wynne?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"Well, it's been a little over a month now, and the ship is almost ready, but we only have three people so far who have agreed to sail it," Nurélia said in a concerned voice. Wynne thought for a moment.

"I suppose I could increase their wages," she said more to herself.

"How will you be able to do that? And where are you getting all of this money for payment, anyway?" Her grandmother smiled at her.

"I'll show you," she replied with her mischievous smile. She rose from the chair she was in and walked out of the room. Nurélia followed her curiously, walking out of the house, down the stairs and to the stream nearby.

"What are we doing here?" Nurélia asked.

"Look," was her grandmother's simple answer as she gestured toward the ground.

"All I see is dirt, grass, a couple flowers . . . pebbles—"

"Exactly." Nurélia's eyebrows furrowed.

"What? Pebbles?" Her grandmother nodded. "That's it? You drug me all the way out here for pebbles? How does this answer my question?"

"Watch closely," she said, gathering some in her hand. "Pebbles, change!" A slight glow engulfed the pebbles, which morphed into shiny gold coins. Nurélia's mouth hung open.

"Wow, Aunt Wynne!" She took a coin out of her grandmother's palm. "Is this actually real?"

"Of course it's real. Now, I don't want you to even try this. Do you hear me? This kind of magic, changing a substance into something entirely different, is very advanced magic. It took me years get this spell perfect. You are not experienced enough to attempt such a feat. And don't you roll your eyes at me, young lady! I know what I'm talking about."

"Fine. I won't try it," she said. Then she mumbled, "_Right now_."

… … … … …

In two more weeks, their ship was finished and floating in the ocean; their crew of ten was familiarizing themselves with the huge vessel, and it was packed with necessities, like cattle for Blaze's food. Wynne placed several spells and blessings on this ship, and in no time, Nurélia and her dragon were sailing North for Alagaësia.

* * *

**A/N: **By the way, I have no background whatsoever on ships, so I'm making most of this up because I was too lazy to look it up. If you'd like to correct me, please do. I'll revise my chapter and everything. :)

Thanks again to my reviewers and whoever else is reading this!

Please review!


	5. Chapter Four

Thanks to my five reviewers! I hope this update will make up for the long wait from the previous chapter. :)

Disclaimer: See _Prologue_

**A/N:** Again, keep in mind that Nurélia and Blaze only speak in the Ancient Language (except for when speaking to the captain. Then they're using their native language). As I'm no Christopher Paolini, it's much easier to write in good ol' English. :)

* * *

_Chapter Four_

"We had better discover land soon, Captain. Blaze ate his last cow this morning, and he doesn't like being hungry," Nurélia said. She didn't mean to come off as rude, but being stuck on a boat for more than a month with the same people can make anyone a little aggravated.

At first it took the crew numerous, very long days to get used to having a dragon on board, and Blaze didn't make it any easier for them. He would play tricks on the ones cleaning up the cattle's messes and breathe fire so close to the wood of the ship that they were certain it would catch fire, and they were terrified of what that would mean if it did, being thousands of miles from shore. Finally, after getting _many_ complaints about her dragon, Nurélia threatened not to go flying with him for the rest of the trip, which made him quit his pranks, although very reluctantly. Now the crew see him as a regular member of the team.

"We're very aware how much he has eaten, and if he would have paced himself, there would still be cows for him to eat. I'm sorry, milady, but we don't expect to see any land for another week. Blaze is just going to have to wait."

Nurélia knew this was true. It _was_ Blaze's own fault that his supply of cattle ran short. It was her grandmother's idea, really, putting a herd of cattle on the ship. She even set up a chart telling him how many he could eat each week. However, Blaze had become too excited and ate more than he was supposed to.

"Okay, but he's _not_ going to be happy about this," she replied and made her way over to Blaze.

_The Captain said that we have another week until we land and that you're just going to have to wait_, she said. Blaze blew smoke out of his nostrils.

_A week! We need to fly somewhere now! I'm hungry! Did you tell them that if they didn't hurry up, I would eat them?_

_No, because one, they wouldn't have believed it since they know they've grown on you as you have on them; two, they have no control how fast the wind takes us there; and three, because it's your own fault in the first place. If you would have followed the chart Aunt Wynne made for you, you wouldn't be in this mess!_

_Hmm. . . a week. We'll see about that_, he said, more to himself. Nurélia overheard.

_What are you thinking of doing?_ she asked suspiciously. Blaze only hummed. She narrowed her eyes at him.

_I'm going to bed_, she announced.

_Goodnight, Ré_, he said a little too happily and using his endearment for her. Nurélia made her way to her cabin and climbed into her bed. She relaxed and tried to pry her way into Blaze's thoughts, but he blocked her way in with solid metal doors. She sulked for a couple of minutes, but eventually, she fell asleep.

... ... ... ... ...

"LAND HO!"

Nurélia awoke with a jolt. She felt Blaze's elated energy surge throughout her body.

_Wake up, Ré! Land Ho!_

_Why do I have the feeling that you had something to do with this? _she asked sleepily. She pushed her blankets off and rolled out of bed.

_Come on! Come on; hurry up! I want to go_, Blaze replied, completely avoiding her comment. Nurélia rolled her eyes and packed her things. She brought them with her to Blaze's quarters and readied him for their journey. When everything they needed was crammed into Blaze's saddlebags, she set off in search of the Captain.

"I want to thank you and your brave crew for sailing us here, Captain." The Captain bowed.

"It was my pleasure, milady," he replied respectfully. Blaze sent her a mental picture of the ship the size of her palm.

"Have a safe trip home!" she said. Then turned to her dragon, who was already high in the air, hence the picture of the tiny ship. _Okay, Blaze. Let's go. Sheesh!_

_Finally! _He landed and she climbed on his back while Blaze and the crew said their goodbyes. She waved to the Captain and crew as Blaze flew off in the direction of Surda's capital.

About a half an hour passed by, and Nurelia felt the presence of hundreds of people.

_Okay, Blaze. We are nearing a city, so you're going to have to fly higher_, she told him. Wynne had advised them not to be seen by any other being than an elf, since the people of Alagaësia might not be familiar with dragons yet.

_I know_, he replied. _She was mainly talking to me when she said that._ They passed over what looked like the main city in Surda as they spotted a large castle. About an hour later, they came across a vast desert land.

_The heat here is incredible!_ Blaze exclaimed after about another hour. Nurélia grunted. _What is wrong, love?_

Nurélia swept a cloth across her brow and rang out the drenched material over Blaze's side. _Nothing_, she replied shortly. Blaze turned his giant head to where one huge gray eye was staring at her.

_I don't think it's 'nothing'. I think that the heat is making you irritable. Why not use the rest of the water to cool you down? _

_Because I don't know how big this desert is. We may not have enough water. _

Blaze let the conversation die. They flew on for a couple more hours when Nurélia felt another presence not far from them. It was very powerful. Her frustration was temporarily put on hold.

_Do you sense that, Blaze?_ she asked curiously.

_Yeah_, he replied without interest.

_What is it?_

She_ is an elf._

_Really? Do you know who she is?_

_Now how am I supposed to know that?_ he asked in an aggravated tone.

_I don't know; it was a simple question. You didn't have to get all snippy_, she said, pouting. Then she muttered, Now _who's being irritable?_

_I'm sorry, Ré. I get moody when I'm hungry; you know that. I don't mean to be rude._ Nurélia smiled and gently pat him on his neck.

_It's okay. I understand. Maybe we should find the elf? She can help us find Ellesméra, and it's possible that she knows where we can get some food and water_, she suggested.

_All right. That sounds like a good plan_. Blaze flew in the direction of the elf, but as they drew closer, neither Nurélia nor Blaze could discover her location. Granted, they _were_ flying far above the ground. Nurélia was using Blaze's sight along with her own to see from the high distance, yet they still couldn't see her.

"She has to be around here somewhere," Nurélia thought aloud. "I can still sense her."

_As can I_, Blaze put in. Then, he dipped toward the ground without warning.

"Blaze!" Nurélia yelled out of surprise. "You can warn me before you pull something like that, you know! . . . I think my heart missed a beat."

_Sorry, I just figured that it would be better for us to search on the ground_. Nurélia crossed her arms and projected a memory of her grandmother to her dragon. _We won't be seen by anyone but the elf,_ he replied_. She's the only one around for miles._

_All right, fine_, she said, giving in. It wasn't as though she had any choice in the matter anyway. While she was agreeing to it, Blaze had already landed. _But after we talk to her, you're going back up in the air._ She dismounted and looked around. _Okay, so where is she?_

_I don't know_, he said, actually sounding astounded. _Say something to her._

_Like what?_

_You're the creative one. Think of something._ Nurélia rolled her eyes.

"Hello?" she shouted into the desert. No answer came. She looked to Blaze and shrugged her shoulders.

'_Hello'? That was your ingenious articulation? _

"You're not helping," she said through her teeth. Then she yelled, "Please, we won't harm you. My dragon and I are looking for Ellesméra, and we were hoping that you could maybe lead us there – if you aren't engaged elsewhere, that is." An elf with long, midnight-black hair and green eyes materialized in front of them. She was dressed in leather. Nurélia stared at her with wide eyes, wondering how in Alagaësia she did that.

The elf put two fingers to her lips and said in a trilling voice, "May good fortune rule over you."

Nurélia smiled and returned the gesture saying, "Peace live in your heart."

"And the stars watch over you," the elf finished. Then she added, "How do you know this language?"

"My grandmother taught it to us. I am Nurélia Arnaëdis, by the way," she said. "And this strapping young dragon is Blaze." Blaze puffed out his chest.

"Well met Nurélia, Blaze. My name is Arya Dröttning."

* * *

Yea! Chapter 4 is out! Review, please:)


	6. Chapter Five

Wow! 8 reviews on the last chapter! That made my week. My reviewers are truly awesome! Thanks!

Disclaimer: See _Prologue _

* * *

_Chapter Five_

_Dröttning? Why does that name sound familiar?_ Nurélia asked Blaze.

_Because Wynne told us about Evandar and Islanzadí Dröttning, the King and Queen of the elves_, he answered.

_Oh! That's right._ Nurélia gasped. _That must mean that she is the Princess! How great is that, Blaze? Meeting a Princess?_ She didn't give him any time to answer, turned to Arya and said, "I'm _very_ pleased to meet you, your highness." For a split second, Nurélia caught a mixture of shock and confusion in the elf's eyes before they were emotionless once again.

"How did you know?" she asked simply. Nurélia shrugged one of her shoulders in a nonchalant manner and leaned against Blaze's side.

"My grandmother taught Blaze and I of the elven culture. Blaze remembered that Dröttning was the name of the royal family and I just made the obvious connection."

Arya nodded her head. A short silence passed before she spoke again. "I have _many_ questions for you, Nurélia."

"And I you, but one question surpasses all others." Arya inclined her head for Nurélia to continue. "Well, earlier, when Blaze and I were trying to find you, we knew you were around because we felt your presence, but how did we not see you?"

Arya smiled. "Oh, that. I sensed great power not far from my location, and since your presence felt unfamiliar, I cloaked myself with a spell of invisibility."

"Wow," Nurélia whispered in an awed voice. "I didn't know there was a spell for that." Arya looked at her, her eyes twinkling.

"The spell isn't widely known. . . . In fact, it isn't really known at all. I created it." Nurélia felt her jaw drop a little. Blaze nudged her with his wing.

_Stop gawking at her. You look ridiculous_, he said. Nurélia snapped her mouth shut and glared at him.

_Well, who have you ever known to create a spell?_ she snapped.

_Wynne, for one,_ he replied.

_Well yeah, but she has had many, many years of experience. Arya's only about . . . _– Nurélia thought for a moment. Her grandmother told Blaze and her that she used to watch over the elf princess before she left, which was over ninety years ago – _one hundred and something, and that's really young for an elf._

_So you're saying that because Arya is young for an elf, even though she has more than a hundred years of experience, it's more amazing to you that _she_ created a spell, yet your grandmother has created many?_ he asked with a hint of cynicism.

_Exactly,_ she replied, either missing the tone in his voice, or ignoring it altogether._ Besides, Aunt Wynne never created a spell of invisibility._

_Or so you know._

Nurélia shrugged off his last comment and focused her attention on Arya once more. The elf seemed to have noticed that they were speaking amongst themselves and waited patiently for them to finish. When she saw Nurélia gaze in her direction, Arya asked, "Where are you from? You are obviously not Alagaësian."

"No. We're from a country far south of Surda. It's about a month and a half's journey across the water."

"Really? How did you get here? You couldn't have flown?"

"Oh, no. Of course not. We had a ship built."

"You came by ship? Even Blaze?" she asked, looking up at him and taking in his large size.

_Yes. The ship was built to accommodate me_, he put in.

"We got here earlier than we were supposed to, really, because Blaze decided that a week was too long to wait for him to eat again." Arya looked confused and Nurélia explained about her grandmother's idea of putting cattle on the ship and then Blaze eating more than he should have.

"How did the ship stay afloat with all that weight?"

"My grandmother blessed it," Nurélia said offhandedly.

"But how did you arrive so much earlier? A ship can only move so fast and a night seems like quite a small amount of time for a week's worth of sailing."

"Actually," she said, turning to Blaze and putting her hands on her hips. "I would like to know that answer myself." Blaze looked to the sky as though suddenly interested in it. _Come on, Blaze. I know you had something to do with it._ He gave her an innocent look. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently.

_All right, fine, _he said, giving in._ I did it._

_You did what?_

_I urged us here and apparently my magic responds to my wanting something really badly_, he said almost too quietly. Nurélia still heard him, though, and she was not at all happy. Arya felt the tension between them build and walked a little ways away to give them some privacy.

"What?! Blaze! What were you thinking? That could have drained a great deal of your energy, or worse!" Her voice was more concerned than angry.

_I knew what I was doing! Besides, the captain was off by several days. We would have arrived only a day and a half later than we did._

_Then why didn't you just wait that extra day and a half?_ she asked delicately. His big gray eyes gazed at her piteously.

_I was hungry_, he whimpered. She frowned at him for several more seconds, but then a small smile crept its way across Nurélia's mouth. She reached out and gently pat him on the nose. He closed his eyes and hummed.

_Just promise me that you'll discuss ideas like that with me first, please? They could be too dangerous to go through with. . . . I don't ever want to lose you. _He opened his eyes to stare at her with sincerity.

_Okay, Ré. I promise._ Her smile grew, and she gave him a hug around the base of his neck. He brought his head to her side. Blaze noticed Arya watching them from a distance, and he cleared his throat. Nurélia broke apart from him. _Now, go see if Arya will take us to Ellesméra_, he said. _I'm still hungry._ Nurélia rolled her eyes and walked toward the elf.

"Arya, will you take us to Ellesméra, please?"

"What do you plan on doing there?" Arya's eyes were inquiring. Nurélia suspected that it was part of the elves' secrecy of where their city was located for her to ask such a question. Nurélia smiled, knowing that one couldn't lie in this language. Arya was sure to trust them.

"Blaze and I were hoping to finish our training with Oromis-elda and Glaedr. My grandmother taught us much about the elven culture, and magic, and helped us learn to broaden our minds, but she can't teach me anything about becoming a Rider. And she certainly couldn't teach Blaze anything about his own kind and what he's capable of doing. Granted, she _was_ one of the elves who placed spells on the dragon eggs for them not to hatch unless someone they felt worthy to be their Rider came along." Nurélia beamed at Blaze, who was once one of those eggs deciding whom was worthy enough to be his Rider. He returned the smile, showing his huge pearly white teeth.

"Who is your grandmother?" Arya asked. "You say she's an elf. Perhaps I know her."

"You should." Arya's eyebrows furrowed. "Her name is Wynne Arnaëdis." The elf shook her head. "Oh! but you probably know her by her maiden name, Wynne Laríana?" Recognition flashed across Arya's face. Nurélia continued, "She told me that she used to be your nanny."

"In a way, I suppose. She used to look after me when my father left for The Dragon War in Ilirea, and while my mother was busy organizing the elves to flee for the forest in hiding. I was miserable when she left, but I'm glad that she's doing so well." Nurélia smiled.

"Yes, she really is. Though I imagine she's missing me terribly as I do her." She was silent for a moment, reflecting upon the memory of her grandmother. Then she asked, "So, did I pass your test?"

Arya nodded. "Ironically, I'm heading there now. You and Blaze may accompany me."

"Great! When do we leave?"

Arya looked to the sky. "Not until tomorrow. It's getting late." Blaze groaned.

_Nurélia_, he whined.

Arya closed her eyes, oblivious to Blaze's whimpering. "No one is around us, so we shall sleep here."

_You can wait for one more night. Here,_ Nurélia said, reaching into one of his saddlebags. She pulled out her last whole loaf of elven bread and set it down next to him. _This should sustain your hunger for the time being._

_Are you kidding? It's a crumb._

_If you're going to be ungrateful, give me that back and you can starve._ Blaze sulked for a moment before he opened his mouth and snapped up the bread. _That's what I thought,_ she said, smiling to herself. She knew Blaze would never pass up an opportunity for food.

Arya made a fire while Nurélia took the saddle off of Blaze so he would sleep more comfortably. Arya slept close to the fire, but Nurélia had Blaze. She nestled against his warm belly as he brought one of his wings over her for protection. An hour later, Nurélia still lay awake too excited to fall asleep. She couldn't believe they were actually here, and tomorrow, they were finally going to meet another Dragon Rider!

… … … … …

Murtagh and Thorn flew above Urû'baen. It was nice to fly around without a care of what people might think about a dragon flying above the city. Everyone should know about him by now. The sun began to sink in the horizon, and they watched as the first stars of the night dotted the sky.

Suddenly, a voice penetrated his mind – a voice he had come to know more than he wished. _Murtagh! Thorn!_ Galbatorix rang out. _Return to the castle. I have a job for you._

_Great,_ Murtagh thought to Thorn. _Now what's he got us doing? _

* * *

Chapter 5 is finished! Whoo hoo!

Review, please!


	7. Chapter Six

Wow! 10 reviews for Chapter 5! Thank you all so much! And I'm sorry this took so long. I was busy with homework and tests and Finals week is coming up. .:shudders:. I loathe Finals week entirely. Yuck.

Anyway, enjoy reading and reviewing (wink, wink). :)

Disclaimer: See _Prologue _

* * *

_Chapter Six_

The bright sun flashed across Nurélia's face, waking her from her light slumber. She only just fell to sleep hours before. She opened her eyes to notice that Blaze removed his wing from above her. She looked around blearily, still trying to wake up, and saw that Arya was already preparing to leave. The elf moved about almost lazily, but Nurélia detected a certain graceful air in her manner of moving no doubt inherited by being an elf. The girl watched her in envy. Nurélia had no grace whatsoever and every once in a while tripped over her own two feet. She had wished that she had at least inherited _some_ poise from her elven grandmother, but she soon realized that wishing for something did her no good. Nurélia yawned and closed her eyes for a moment – then suddenly snapped them open and looked around with wide eyes. Where was her dragon?

_Blaze? _

No answer.

_Blaze, where are you?_ she thought, her tone full of panic. Yet still no answer came.

"Your dragon is fine," said Arya, who must have observed her distressful behavior. "I told him where to find some food, and he set off immediately. He should be back any time."

"Why won't he answer me?" she asked anxiously.

Arya looked pensive. "I don't know. I didn't send him too far away."

"The distance wouldn't have mattered even if he was across the country. My grandmother taught us to broaden our minds to great lengths."

Arya raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really? How old _are_ you?"

Nurélia looked at her incredulously. "My dragon could be in danger and _you_ want to know my age?"

"Broadening your mind takes a great deal of time and practice for a human. I only –"

"Look, I'm sorry, but I don't have time for this. Which way did you send him?"

Arya narrowed her eyes at the girl for her disrespect but pointed west, anyway.

"Thanks," Nurélia replied and immediately headed in that direction. After several minutes, Nurélia noticed the elf following behind. Arya called to her, so she stopped to wait for the elf.

"I figured I could help you, since it is my fault he's missing," Arya replied to the girl's quizzical expression. Nurélia stayed silent and started walking again. After she was ahead several yards, she finally gave in. Nurélia turned her head back to the immobile elf and motioned for her to follow. Arya was soon beside her.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," Nurélia said after a few minutes. "It's just that Blaze means the world to me. I don't know what I'd do if anything was to happen to him." Arya nodded her head.

"I understand. Oromis-elda has always said that the bond between a dragon and their Rider is exceptionally strong. . . . We will find him; I am sure," Arya said with a reassuring smile. Nurélia returned it.

"Thank you." They walked in silence for quite some time while Nurélia's worry grew with each new step she took. She kept her mind open for Blaze, yet guarded against unwanted company.

"You know," Arya began, "it will probably be awhile before we find him. He has wings which allow him to fly to great distances in very little time, and we have but two legs each." Nurélia nodded her head in understanding. The place they were headed was still quite a ways ahead, and she needed something to lead her thoughts away from Blaze's peril, except it was difficult for her to think of anything else at the moment. They walked in silence for a little longer until Nurélia finally spoke, trying to keep her mind off the dangers Blaze could be in, which were increasing her anxiety.

"Seventeen," she murmured.

"Pardon?" asked Arya, turning to the girl.

"My age," she replied, her eyes downcast. "I'm seventeen." The elf smiled at her.

"You're very talented for one so young."

"Maybe so, but you forget that I _am_ part elf," she said. Then she added in a dejected tone, "I think my so called 'talent' is only derived from that detail of my inheritance."

"Why are you so harsh upon yourself?" Arya asked, surprised. "Do you not believe you are capable of great things?"

Nurélia shrugged her shoulders, and Arya dropped the subject. They walked on for about a mile when Nurélia suddenly thought of a question she had been very interested in knowing. She wondered if the elf knew anything about it.

"Can I ask you a question, Arya?"

"Yes, of course."

"Do you know anything of the new Dragon Rider?"

"You mean _Murtagh_?" asked Arya, her jaw tightening at the name. Nurélia stared at her in confusion.

"I thought his name was Eragon?" Arya turned to her.

"Then you do not know of Murtagh?"

"There are two new Dragon Riders?"

"In a way," the elf replied, thinking of the new Riders as Murtagh and Nurélia, but knew the girl was talking about Murtagh and Eragon. "Saphira hatched for Eragon about a year ago, and Murtagh and his dragon were only just discovered three and a half months ago. . . . And then there's you. In my opinion, _you_ are the newest, though by the size of Blaze, I'm guessing that you have been a Rider longer than even Eragon." The mention of her dragon brought back her fears in full, which were momentarily suppressed by the distraction of their conversation.

"Blaz—" she began quietly, but her voice caught in her throat. She took a deep, shaky breath and started again, "Blaze and I celebrated our birthdays about three months ago. He hatched on my 16th birthday," Nurélia said.

"Really? How coincidental that you both share the same birthday."

"No. It was fate," Nurélia replied. "So, who is this Murtagh guy?" Arya's expression hardened.

"He's a traitor," she spat. "The son of Morzan and Galbatorix's newest force against anyone who opposes him."

"He's evil then?" Nurélia asked, taken aback.

"He didn't use to be, but Galbatorix corrupted him and his dragon; forced them to swear fealty to him, and now they're after Eragon and Saphira."

"What will they do if or when they find them?"

Arya fell silent. ". . . I don't know," she said in a low voice.

"Do you know Eragon?"

The elf nodded. "We're good friends," she replied. "He rescued me from the prison in Gil'ead where I was tortured mercilessly. He has come very far in the short year he has been a Rider. He has even defeated a Shade, and recently—"

"A Shade!" Nurélia exclaimed. "He defeated a Shade! Wow! I thought they didn't exist anymore. Are there many here?"

"No, not at all. I was surprised myself when I saw him. I don't know if there are any left in Alagaësia."

"I hope there aren't. My grandmother told me about them. Vile creatures, they are."

"Yes, beyond doubt," agreed Arya. Nurélia then remembered that she cut the elf's earlier sentence short.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I interrupted you earlier, didn't I?"

"Hmm? Oh! Recently he and a few others, myself included, defeated two Ra'zac and their mounts, the Lethrblaka, at Helgrind. We rescued Roran's fiancée, Katrina, who was taken captive by the brutes, and they were finally wed two weeks later. Of course, that was after Katrina had to beg a woman named Birgit not to kill Roran."

"Who is Roran?"

"Eragon's cousin; though I think they view each other more as brothers."

"Why did the woman want to kill him?"

"It's kind of a long story, but basically, she blamed him for her husband's death."

"Oh. . . . Blaze and I were hoping to meet Eragon and Saphira in Ellesméra. Do you think they will be there?"

Arya shrugged her shoulders. "It's hard to say where he is right now. Since Murtagh is after him, many advised him to stay hidden until his presence is greatly needed." Nurélia's shoulders slumped in disappointment. Arya must have noticed, because she then replied, "But you never know. He could have chosen Ellesméra for his place to hide."

With nothing more to say to keep her distracted, Nurélia's thoughts led her to her missing dragon once again. They walked for what felt like ages, and then, finally, Nurélia caught a faint whisper of her dragon's essence. Her heart leapt. _It's very weak though_, she thought fearfully. _I wonder if it's because. . . No! You mustn't think like that. He's fine,_ she said firmly, trying to convince herself, yet her face portrayed her fears. She walked on in a faster pace, watching her feet move steadily across the sand. His presence barely strengthened as she grew nearer, but she trudged on. When she finally looked ahead, she found a small oasis only miles away.

"That is where I sent him; where he should be," Arya said. Nurélia broke into a sprint, stumbling in the sand and almost falling twice. _Please be okay, please be okay,_ she chanted. Sweat trickled down her face as she ran, which mixed with the tears that lined her cheeks. She wiped them away hastily and continued on without stopping once. The oasis was covered in thick shrubbery that towered over six feet and was dotted with very few slim, cream-colored trees. Three small mountains were visible in the background.

When she reached the outskirts of the oasis, she felt a sudden presence that she knew wasn't there before. _How is that possible?_ she asked herself. _I can usually feel any presence miles away and _this_ one is quite strong._ Arya, who was beside her all through her run, gasped as a cloaked figure suddenly appeared from behind a patch of shrubs from their left. The stranger's face was concealed behind the shadow of his hood. Arya was quick to respond, but it seemed as though her spell only bounced off. The stranger gave a short, harsh laugh, raised his hand at Arya, and yelled a word of power.

"No!" Nurélia shouted at the same time, falling to her knees as Arya's body fell into her arms. Nurélia stared at her in shock. _She's only sleeping, _she realized, relief sweeping through her. _But still. . . __Who can drop an elf like that? Her spell didn't even faze him._ She faced the stranger, her eyes full of fury.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"No one you know," he replied. Then he raised his hand at her, yelling the word of power once more.

Nurélia felt the spell hit her, yet it took a few moments for it to take effect. Her fury delayed the spell momentarily. She watched through bleary eyes as the hazy figure approached her with a giant, ruby red blob looming behind him before her vision left her completely.

* * *

Yea! Chapter Six out! Oh, and sorry about the cliffy. . . . hehehe

Review please!

By the way, I'm really not all that great at battle scenes, which is why I had Arya tell Nurélia what happened with the Ra'zac instead. I'll try to fit in some sword fighting and small battles later, but I'm telling you that they won't be great or anything so don't expect too much.

For the anonymous reviewers of Chapter Five:

**DragonRider2000**: Yes, the timeline is after the Battle of the Burning Plains; three and a half months later to be exact. Arya is heading _back_ to Ellesméra because she was still in Surda at the end of Eldest, and in my story, she recently helped Eragon with the Ra'zac and was then returning home.

**TheBlackCoyote**: Thank you so much!


	8. Chapter Seven

Wow! Twelve reviews for last chapter! Thanks to all of my reviewers. You guys are great! I'm sorry it took so long to get this chapter out, but I think you'll like it. Well, at least I hope you will.

Disclaimer: See _Prologue _

* * *

_Chapter Seven_

Murtagh moved forward and gently picked the girl up from the ground, leaving Arya where she fell. He mounted his ruby red dragon, placing the unconscious girl in front of him. He merged his magic with Thorn's and used a spell to make her dragon follow them as they flew. They had to get away from Arya before the elf woke up. Otherwise, she would use more powerful magic than earlier, and then their plan would be ruined. As they flew, Murtagh studied the girl, whose head was cradled in the crook of his arm. Her pointed ears and the shape of her slanted, almond eyes confused him as he studied her human-like features. Was she human or elf? Murtagh couldn't decide. She couldn't have been a Rider long enough for the elven alterations to progress so far, could she?

_Perhaps she is both human and elf_, offered Thorn.

_Perhaps,_ he replied nonchalantly, still studying the girl. Her light brown hair was knotting as the wind blew through it, and her pale lips were beginning to chap. _We don't have to go to Galbatorix right away, do we?_

_What are you saying? You think we can just ignore his orders of bringing the girl and her dragon to him? You know as well as I do the penalties for disobeying him. _

_We're not disobeying him per se. We're just evading his orders until we think it absolutely necessary to abide by them._

_What did you have in mind to do in the mean time?_ Thorn asked. His voice seemed as though he regretted asking the question.

_I think that we can try to persuade her to side with us instead of forcing her._

_I see. And how do you plan on doing that when I doubt she's going to listen to anything we say after we attacked her and Arya?_

Murtagh thought about this. _We can always say it wasn't us; that we intercepted the 'other guy's' plans and saved her. She didn't know that it was me under the hood._

_You mean lie in the Ancient Language? How do you plan on doing that?_

_The same way I told Galbatorix that Eragon escaped through a way dark magic couldn't prevent._

_That was different. You actually believed that to be true when you said it, making you capable of lying. _

_How is this any different? I believe that the person who attacked them is a totally different person than who I really am. _Murtagh shrugged his shoulders. _W__e can always try._

_I suppose so, but you're on your own when you go to explain it. _

_Oh, thank you, _Murtagh replied sarcastically. _A lot of help you are._

_It's your idea. Besides, I don't think it's wise to try to gain her trust by lying to her. It won't be pretty when she finds out the truth._

If _she finds out. _

_What makes you think she won't?_ Murtagh ignored Thorn's last comment as the girl stirred slightly in his arms.

_She's beginning to wake up! The spell was supposed to last until we arrived in Urû'baen, and we're not even halfway!_

_Don't get your sword in a knot,_ replied Thorn in a monotonous tone. _Just use the spell again, for crying out loud._

_Oh, right. _Murtagh put his hand with the gedwëy ignasia over her forehead, and then suddenly drew it back, yelping in pain. _She burned my hand! How did she do that while sleeping?_

_Perhaps she has a slight resilience to magic? And you know you don't _have _to touch her to perform the spell._ Again, Murtagh chose to ignore Thorn's last comment.

_Well, whatever it is we can't have her wake up in my arms miles above ground. It would most likely overwhelm her, and we can't afford to have her fall._

_And you honestly think I'd let her? It pains me to think that you have no faith in my abilities, _Thorn said in mock disappointment. Murtagh rolled his eyes.

_Of course I have faith in you, and I know that if she did fall, you would catch her; but if we're going to explain that it wasn't us who captured her, it would be much easier for her to believe our story with her _not_ in my arms,_ Murtagh said.

_Oh, very well,_ he said, descending. _But may I remind you that there is no 'we' when _you _explain _your_ story to her and her dragon._ Thorn landed with a heavy thud on the desert sand, leaving four giant footprints a couple inches deep.

_Your landing could have been a bit more gentle, _Murtagh grumbled, rubbing his neck with his free hand. Thorn snorted smoke and tapped his tail impatiently while his Rider cradled the girl in his arms and slid off the side. The girl's dragon landed several feet away and rested without the slightest indication of ever getting back up.

_I think we used a bit more magic than we should have with him,_ Thorn said.

_Would you have rather had him tear us to pieces or burn us to a crisp if his spell wore off before we wanted?_

_No, of course not. It's just—"_

_Relax. He'll be fine once I remove his spell, which, of course, won't be until the girl and he agrees to side with us._ Thorn still felt uneasy about it but curled up by the fire Murtagh only just finished lighting. The Rider then laid out a blanket next to the flames, placing the girl upon the cloth. A lock of her hair fell into her face, and without thinking, he gently brushed it aside, tracing the side of her face from forehead to chin.

_Murtagh, what are you doing?_ asked Thorn. Murtagh quickly stood and turned to his dragon.

_Hmm? What? Nothing. I was just setting her down on the blanket._ Thorn looked at him with an accusing eye.

_You forget, young Rider, that we are linked. There is a new weird emotion I feel from you. It's very weak, but it's still there._

_That's absurd! I don't feel any different. _Thorn looked at him skeptically, and Murtagh shrugged it off. _Get some sleep. I'll take first watch._ Thorn blew smoke out of his nose in an irritated manner and then turned his head away from his Rider.

Murtagh gazed at her for a little longer before finally tearing his eyes away from the sleeping girl. He laid on the ground and looked up at the stars, trying to figure out how to convince her to join them. Every once in a while, he'd glance her way to make sure she didn't awaken yet.

After what felt like twenty minutes, he heard the signs of her beginning to wake up from the spell. Feeling unsure of whether he should be the first one she saw when she awoke, he stood quickly and disappeared behind Thorn.

… … … … …

Nurélia awoke to find herself on a soft, warm blanket. The dark sky was dotted with tons of stars, and a fire was crackling nearby.

_Blaze?! _she cried out suddenly.

_I'm here, Ré,_ he replied.

Relief swept through her. She sat up and looked for him, finding a red dragon not far away. The light of the fire made the dragon's scales glitter like a thousand rubies. She again searched for her dragon. He was several yards away, lying down with his huge head facing her. _Are you hurt?_ she asked.

_No, but I feel strange._

She rose from her blanket and, tip-toeing past the other dragon, made her way toward Blaze. _What do you mean?_

_It's . . . it's hard to describe._

_Try,_ she encouraged, patting his head gently He was silent for a moment.

_Except for the bond we share, I can't feel anything – no movement, no magic, I don't even think I can fly._

_Do you think you're paralyzed?_

_I don't know. It's a terrible feeling, Nurélia. I'm frightened._

She embraced his giant head. _Don't worry. I'm going to figure out what's happened._

_Please hurry._

She hated seeing her massive dragon so helpless. Whoever did this was going to pay dearly. She looked around but only saw the red dragon. She noticed that it wasn't near the size of Blaze but was still fairly big. She guessed that it was only several months old. Then, a revelation came to her.

_Oh my gosh! Blaze, do you think that this other dragon is Thorn? _

_He very well could be, but if he is, where is his Rider?_ Nurélia gradually opened her mind, feeling two unfamiliar presences: the dragon and a human mind from the dragon's other side. Once revealed, Nurélia retreated behind her barriers, not wanting the Rider to use her open mind to his advantage.

"What have you done to my dragon?" she asked. The red dragon's eyes opened to her voice, revealing bright crimson orbs. A figure stepped out from behind the dragon. The fire gave off little light from such a far distance, but it did give enough to expose the person as male. He ran a hand through his dark hair and leaned against the side of his dragon while her stomach squirmed nervously under the stare of his glistening dark eyes.

… … … … …

Murtagh watched as the girl stood defiantly before her dragon as if protecting him, though her eyes were slightly apprehensive. Amused by this, a small smile spread across his lips. He didn't know why, but he felt a sudden urge to introduce himself.

"My name is Murtagh," he said. Then, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, he added, "And this is Thorn."

"That's not the question I asked you," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

"So, are you not going to tell us who you are?"

"Are you evading my question on purpose? I want to know what you've done to my dragon." The girl's eyes flashed dangerously. Murtagh tried to make out their color, but there wasn't enough light.

_Remember, Murtagh, you cannot lie in the Ancient Language,_ Thorn said. Murtagh gave him an irritated glare and then turned his attention back to the girl.

"Your dragon is under a spell cast by the man that attacked you. He'll be fine once the spell wears off," Murtagh replied. She eyed him suspiciously.

"This man you speak of, how do I know he isn't you?" she asked.

"Me? Why would _I_ want to attack you?"

"You tell me." She glanced at Thorn. "Before I blacked out, I remember seeing a dark figure standing over me and a giant, red . . . something in the background, which I'm presuming it to be your dragon."

"Thorn saw the man and snuck up behind him before he could do anything else. Then, I picked you up, and we brought you here."

_I didn't _sneak up_ behind you. How did you get away with saying that?_ Thorn asked curiously. Murtagh smiled at him.

_Because I really didn't know you were behind me when I was standing over her, so I took it as sneaking up on me. _

"If my dragon cannot move," the girl began, "then how did you bring him along with?" Murtagh's eyes lit up. This was a question he could answer honestly.

"I am a Rider, aren't I? Thorn and I merged our powers and magically carried him."

"A massive dragon like mine? All this way?" Her tone seemed unbelieving.

"He _is_ here, isn't he?" Murtagh answered. Her lips tightened in thought.

"What about the elf, Arya? Why did you not take her as well?"

"Arya and I don't exactly get along. Besides, she's very independent and isn't really fond of a human rescuing her, being an elf and all. I figured she could take care of herself."

"Yes, I suppose she could. But what if that man came back?"

"I doubt it. He seemed to be more after you than her."

She was silent for awhile. Finally, she asked, "How long do you think it will take for the spell to wear off?" Murtagh smiled. He could tell that she was beginning to trust him. She seemed friendlier with her questions and didn't stand as stiffly as when their conversation began.

"I'm really not sure," he said.

_You aren't?_ Thorn asked accusingly.

_No. I have no idea how long it will take to persuade her to join us,_ Murtagh replied. _And until then, I'm not letting him off that spell._

The girl looked longingly at her dragon. She kept her eyes on him while she asked, "He will be all right, though, won't he?"

"I believe so," Murtagh replied. The girl managed a small smile.

"His name is Blaze," she said. Then after a slight pause, she added, "And I'm Nurélia."

* * *

Yea! Chapter Seven is finished! So did you like it? Tell me in a review, please :)


	9. Chapter Eight

Thanks to all of my reviewers! You guys are great!

By the way, I forgot to mention earlier (though I thought it seemed pretty obvious) that this is a MurtaghOC fanfic; though whether they end up together is completely up to what I'm feeling when I write the later chapters, since I write them as I go. Anyway, on with the chapter!

Disclaimer: _See Prologue _

* * *

_Chapter Eight_

Nurélia stared up into the starry sky, admiring the brightness of the moon even though only half of it was visible. Murtagh was busying himself with making a fire, while Thorn watched lazily. She shivered a little.

_This is a strange country, Blaze. I've read about the extreme heat of the Hadarac in the scrolls about Alagaësia Aunt Wynne had me read, but they said nothing about how cold it becomes at night._ She shivered again.

_You don't have to stay by me, you know. In fact, I'd prefer it if you were closer by the fire so your teeth would stop making that awful noise._ She laughed softly and reluctantly moved away from Blaze to sit next to the warmth of the fire.

She sat across from Murtagh, who occasionally tossed twigs into the fire. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, her main focus on Blaze. Something tugged at the back of her mind. She tried to ignore it at first, but the more she pushed, the more persistent it became. Finally, she gave up and the information surged forward. Her eyes widened slightly as she remembered the certain detail Arya told her about the newly acquainted Rider and his dragon. She turned to him, her eyes accusing.

"Arya told me that you and Thorn work with the Alagaësian King. I'm curious to why you would agree to serve a man who had almost made it impossible for you to even become a Rider." His expression hardened, yet she noticed that his eyes were thoughtful as they stared into the fire. He picked up a twig and moved it through his fingers.

"We don't work _with_ the King; we work for him," he said after a while, his eyes focusing on the twig. "And there was no consent involved. We were forced. . . . He knows our true names."

"Oh," was all she could say as he threw the twig into the fire. Then she thought of another question, "So, if you had the choice, would you side against him? With the Varden and the elves?" This time, he met her eyes. His were so dark, full of pain and sorrow. They drew her to him in a way that was so unexpected that all she could do was stare right back. When she finally realized that she _was_ staring, she averted her eyes, hoping that the darkness hid the soft pink hue that colored her cheeks. She felt his stare still upon her.

"No," he said dryly. His answer surprised her. She looked at him.

"What?"

"No," he repeated.

"Why not?" she asked, confused.

"Working for him can be difficult at times, but he isn't so bad—"

"Isn't so bad? His legion of corrupt Riders and he murdered every other Rider and his or her dragon they could get their hands on, leaving only three eggs that would only _possibly_ hatch, and you're defending him?" she said fervently.

"Galbatorix and the Forsworn weren't the corrupt Riders, Vrael and the others were. They were old, lazy, and under the elves' control, who used them to subjugate humans. Their removal was necessary so that we can start fresh."

"Really?" she said skeptically. "So you were there over eighty years ago and saw first hand which of the two were actually corrupt."

"Were you?" he shot back.

"No, but—"

"Then how do you know Galbatorix isn't telling the truth?"

"How do you? Did he voice his 'facts' in the Ancient Language?" Murtagh opened his mouth to retaliate but then closed it in defeat. Nurélia continued, "I didn't think so. Besides, which group of Riders murdered the other under the orders of a Rider whose dragon isn't his original dragon? _That_ doesn't seem corrupt to you?"

"You don't understand," he said insistently. "He has a vision; a vision to restore the Riders, and with us, unite Alagaësia under a single banner, eliminating the need for war. Does that seem so evil?"

"It does if the banner Alagaësia is united under is his," she said softly. "Do you really want _him_ to rule over the entire country?" Murtagh was silent. "Think about it." She left the fire to curl up next to Blaze. He hummed when he felt her near him.

_Nurélia?_

"Hmm?" she said tiredly.

_I'm awfully hungry._

"Oh Blaze."

… … … … …

A soft yellow glow rose above the horizon, announcing the arrival of the morning sun as it graced the sky. Murtagh sat on the ground, leaning against Thorn. He looked over at Nurélia, who was curled up next to her dragon. He smiled to himself, remembering her blush when he gazed at her last night. Her eyes, hazel with green specks, stared at him so intently; he wondered what she was thinking then. He didn't sleep much as his and Nurélia's conversation last night kept replaying in his head. He ran his thoughts by Thorn.

_I want Galbatorix's vision to happen, but listening to Nurélia's point of view on the matter makes me question if I really do want Galbatorix to be the supreme ruler. I mean, especially with him having control over the Riders,_ he said. Thorn was pensive.

_It seems to me,_ he said after a little while, _that this girl has quite an influence on you. Perhaps we should have gone straight to Galbatorix after all._

_Don't be ridiculous, Thorn,_ he scoffed. _She has no such power over me. Besides, if we _had _gone straight to Galbatorix, who knows what he would have done to her when she refused to serve him (because I highly doubt she would have agreed), _or_ if she would even still speak to me._

_You're right,_ replied the dragon sarcastically. _She has _no_ influence over you whatsoever. What _was_ I thinking?_

Murtagh ignored him. He was too busy watching Nurélia awaken from her slumber. She stood and stretched, her hands reaching toward the dawn lit sky. Her dragon blew smoke from his nose, as if wanting attention. She smiled and gently pat him on his head. Feeling as though he owed her something after kidnapping her, Murtagh loosened some of the magic on Blaze, who nestled Nurélia back.

"Blaze!" she said surprised. "You can move!"

_I thought you weren't going to release the hold you have on him until _after_ she agreed to come with us?_ Thorn asked Murtagh.

_He can only move his head and tail,_ he answered. Nurélia noticed Murtagh watching her, and she looked at him with a smile that lit up her eyes. An odd feeling formed in the pit of his stomach as she did so.

_What is that?_ Thorn asked curiously. _I've never felt that from you before. _

_I don't know. Nerves, I guess,_ he replied quickly. Thorn gave him a skeptical look.

_Nerves for what?_

_For her ever finding out that we lied to her._

_Correction: _you _lied to her. _I_ was an innocent bystander._

_Innocent? I don't think so. You could have told her the truth anytime, and you didn't. That's just as bad as lying._

_Okay, so we're both guilty, but you better tell her the truth before she finds out on her own. There is a great deal of power emanating from them, and I'd hate to be at the wrong end of it._

_What are you talking about?_ Murtagh scoffed._ I'm holding her dragon, her _dragon_, captive, and you're telling me that you, who is probably the most powerful dragon besides Shruikan, are afraid of them?_

_I'm not afraid. I'm cautious. They could be a very threatening enemy._

_Threatening? Really? Well, let's just see how threatening. . ._

… … … … …

Nurélia stared curiously at Murtagh and his dragon. They were obviously discussing something privately, because she noticed Murtagh 'talking' with his hands yet no words escaped his lips. Blaze interrupted her inquisitive thoughts.

_I'm still hungry, Nurélia._ She turned to him, giving him a half-smile.

_So am I. I'll see what I can do,_ she said tenderly. Blaze hummed. She looked over at the two, who seemed to be arguing now. Murtagh's expression had hardened, and bits of smoke rose from Thorn's snout. Nurélia bit her lip in uncertainty. She needed to speak to them, but she didn't want to interrupt with them looking so tense. Finally, Murtagh turned away from his dragon, and Nurélia took her chance.

"Murtagh?" He gazed over at her. She continued, "Though Blaze can move a little, he still can't hunt for himself, and he's awfully hungry." She turned to Thorn. "Would it be too much to ask you to hunt for him, Thorn? I'm sure he'd really appreciate it, as would I." Thorn slightly bowed his head.

_Of course._

"Thank you," she replied, as Thorn spread his wings and leapt into the sky. Time passed in an awkward silence as they waited for Thorn to return. Then, unexpectedly, Murtagh began to walk toward her, stopping only a few feet away.

"Would you like to spar?" Murtagh asked out of the blue. Nurélia looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

_He must be joking, _she told Blaze.

_I don't believe he is,_ he replied with a humorous tone. Then he made a peculiar noise, which Nurélia knew at once as his way of laughing. Murtagh looked from Rider to dragon, his eyes finally rested on Nurélia.

"Well, come on, then. Get your sword."

"My sword?"

"You know, the long pointed metal stick that—"

"Yes; I know what a sword _is_, thank you," she replied scathingly. She did _not_ like to be under minded.

"Well then, what's the problem?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. She glared at him.

"Does it _look_ like I have one? Does it look like I have _anything_? My possessions are with Blaze's saddle in the middle of the Hadarac, because I wasn't thinking about them when I found out Blaze was missing."

"Well, then we'll search for your belongings, and then we can spar."

"I don't think so," she stated. Murtagh seemed confused. Just then, Thorn landed with a lifeless buck in his jaws. Blaze thumped his tail once in excitement, salivating all over the ground. Nurélia wrinkled her nose in disgust.

_Get a hold of yourself, Blaze. It hasn't been _that_ long since you last ate._ Blaze ignored her as Thorn dropped the buck in front of him. Nurélia turned away from him as he sank his teeth into the poor creature.

"So, why not?" Murtagh asked, centering her attention upon him.

"'Why not' what?"

"Why won't you spar with me when we find your sword?"

"Because, I don't _have_ a sword."

"Oh. Okay . . . Well, you do know _some_ basic fighting moves though, right?"

"Not exactly. Blaze and I are more" – she searched for the right word – "philosophical. We don't fight," she replied.

"What kind of Rider and dragon don't fight?"

"Peaceful ones," she said simply. He looked at her, almost to the point of laughing.

"Peaceful ones?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery.

"Listen _you_," she said, poking him in the shoulder. "I don't believe I asked whether I wanted your opinion of how Blaze and I were trained."

_She does have a point,_ voiced Thorn.

"Thank you," Nurélia said, smiling. Murtagh glared at him.

"Whose side are you on?" he asked. Thorn didn't answer.

"You did have a good idea earlier, though," she said.

"I did? When?"

"We need to search for Blaze's saddle in the Hadarac. All of my food is with it, and I'm growing hungry myself."

"Okay, then we'll leave now. There isn't much else we're doing."

"What about Blaze? Someone needs to stay here and make sure nothing happens to him."

"Thorn can stay with him while we go. He can protect him," offered Murtagh.

"Well, okay," she said, reluctant to leave her dragon so helpless while she would be so far away. She gazed at him, her eyes filled with anxiety.

"You know, the sooner we leave, the quicker we'll be back," Murtagh said impatiently.

Blaze agreed._ He's right. I can't miss you if you haven't left._ Nurélia scowled at him playfully, her eyes smiling.

"All right, fine. Let's go."

* * *

Yea! Chapter Eight is finished! Hope you liked it!

Review, please!

For my anonymous reviewer:

**luva**: Thank you so much! That's really kind of you to say. I'm so glad you like my story. :)


	10. Chapter Nine

Thanks to my thirteen reviewers! The most I've had for one chapter! You guys are AWESOME!! I really hope you enjoy this chapter. It was a lot fun to write. :)

Disclaimer: See _Prologue_

* * *

_Chapter Nine_

Noon was fast approaching the two travelers as they trudged through the soft sand of the Hadarac Desert. They barely spoke two words to each other since leaving the campsite a mere half an hour ago – until an angry growl filled the silence. Murtagh glanced at Nurélia with an eyebrow raised.

"Was that your stomach?" he asked.

"I told you I was growing hungry," she replied simply.

"If you were as persistent as your dragon, I'm sure your stomach would have no reason to growl by now." She smiled.

"Perhaps, but I would prefer something that wasn't breathing before I eat it."

Murtagh seemed to be in thought as they walked further on. She glanced at him curiously but didn't have to wait too long to hear what he was thinking.

"May I ask you some questions?" he asked.

"You may ask, but whether or not they receive an answer is entirely dependent on the question," she answered teasingly and with a smile.

"Oh, well, that's not fair," he said, returning her playful smile. "I answered all of _your_ questions."

"True, but I suppose mine didn't require a difficult answer."

"Perhaps mine don't either."

She laughed softly. "All right, ask away." Murtagh looked pensive, as though trying to figure out which question he'd like to ask her first.

"Well, I know that human Riders develop elven features after a time, but you couldn't have been a Rider long enough for those changes to take affect so significantly, could you?"

"I'm not entirely sure how long one must be a Rider for those changes to occur, but I suppose they wouldn't affect me too much." Murtagh gave her a confused look. She realized the vagueness of her answer and laughed. "I'm part elf," she explained. Murtagh nodded in understanding. "I'm only a quarter, though. You see, my grandmother is an elf, while my grandfather was human."

"So your parents are . . . ?"

"My mother's human; my father's half and half."

"Oh, I see. Do you have any siblings?"

She looked at him, a hint of suspicion in her eyes. "Why are you so interested in my family?"

Murtagh shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I'm just curious."

Nurélia gave him another suspicious look before saying, "I'm an only child. My mother wasn't able to have children for awhile, and then I was born. After me, she couldn't conceive anymore. Do _you_ have any siblings?" she shot back. His expression was hard to read.

"One. A younger brother," he replied.

"How old is he?"

"Sixteen?"

"Was that an answer or a question?" she asked, laughing. He didn't say, and she let it pass. "Did you have anymore questions for me?" He thought for a moment, his face appearing grateful for her overlooking his lack of a response.

"Only one more – for now. How did Blaze's egg turn up in your possession? Galbatorix and the Forsworn could save only three eggs, and they're all accounted for. Plus, none of them were the color of fire." Nurélia tightened her jaw at his statement of Galbatorix 'saving' three eggs, as though he was some kind of hero. She waited for almost a minute for her temper to subside before answering.

"Blaze's dam gave the egg to my grandmother, who was told that the dragon would hatch for one of her descendants. I just happened to be that descendant," she said. Then she looked around the desert frenetically. Murtagh looked, too, just not with as much enthusiasm.

"What are we looking for?" he asked. Nurélia avoided his gaze.

"I don't know where we are."

"Oh. Well, that's easy. We're in the Hadarac," he said simply. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Cute."

"I thought so."

Ignoring him, she thought to Blaze, _I need you to guide me. I've lost my way._

_You and your sense of direction,_ he replied. She smiled, knowing that Blaze had a photographic memory, so when he flew, he memorized the land.

_That's why I have you._

I _don't even know where you are._

"Nurélia," Murtagh called. Still ignoring him, she closed her eyes and focused all of her attention on Blaze.

_Look through my eyes,_ she told him. She felt Blaze enter her body and opened her eyes so he could look through them. Murtagh seemed a little taken aback, but as before, she ignored him as Blaze and she looked around.

_You were heading too far North, _he said. _Weren't you guiding yourself with the sun?_

_The sun was what got me lost. It's in the middle of the sky; I can't tell what direction it's moving toward. _

_Just head this way for about a half a mile, and then head east for another three miles._

_Right, like I know how long a half of a mile feels, let alone three._ Blaze sighed heavily.

_Why do you always have to make directions so difficult? _

_What are you complaining about? It's not as though you have something else you could be doing. Could you please just help me out right now?_ she asked impatiently.

_Okay, I'll stay with you until you reach the half mile, and then I'll point you east._

_Thank you; that's all I ask,_ she replied and then turned to Murtagh, who was sulking from being ignored for so long. "Follow us," she said to him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Us? You mean" – recognition flashed in his expression – "Blaze is _in_ you? Right now? I knew that it was possible for a Rider to enter his or her dragon, but I didn't think it was possible for a dragon to enter his or her Rider."

"We've practiced this a thousand times," Blaze explained to him through Nurélia's mouth. Her voice sounded deep and raspy, yet still her voice. Murtagh seemed surprised for a moment but covered it quickly. "Plus," Blaze continued, "Nurélia has more magic in her body than you do, as she _is_ part elf. I'm not even sure if it's possible for a human Rider."

"Okay, _that_ was a little weird," he said. "Did you know that your eyes turned gray earlier and then just then when, I'm assuming, Blaze spoke?"

"They did?" Nurélia asked, amazed. "Neat!"

"Yeah, well, it's a little disturbing." Nurélia smirked.

"Are you scared of little ol' me?" she asked, her eyes dancing.

"No," he scoffed. "I never said I was scared."

"Really? Because it sounded like it to me."

"Me, too," Blaze said through her. Murtagh grimaced slightly. Both Nurélia and Blaze laughed, which sounded very awkward as Nurélia's voice swayed between her normal laugh and the one affected by Blaze. Murtagh shuddered.

"All right, let's just keep moving," he said quickly and walked on. After a half mile, Blaze told Nurélia which direction east was and left her body.

"He's gone," she told Murtagh, smiling to herself. He kept silent. After a few minutes or so, he said in a firm voice, "I wasn't scared."

"I know. You're fun to tease, though," she said.

They walked on for what felt like ages to Nurélia since Murtagh wouldn't talk to her to make the time pass by quicker. Then all of the sudden, she felt her foot catch on something, making her fall flat on her face. Murtagh's laughter was heard as she spit sand out of her mouth.

"Ow," she moaned and picked herself up off the ground. She wiped her face and dusted off the sand from her front.

"Do you trip over your own feet often?" he asked, his voice humorous. She glared at him.

"I didn't trip over my own feet!" she said, irritated. "There was something in the sand!" And with that she marched over to the place she fell, searching for whatever tripped her. Murtagh's face was skeptical but his expression merged into surprise when she pulled a strange looking piece of leather out of the sand. Nurélia recognized it at once. She smiled at him.

"I just found Blaze's saddle."

… … … … …

Back at the campsite, they both sat around the fire with their dragons close by. Nurélia made a vegetable stew, while Murtagh roasted some meat over the fire to put in his. While they were eating, Murtagh looked up from his bowl.

"I still can't believe you have never even held a sword." Nurélia shrugged her shoulders.

"My grandmother didn't approve of physical fighting. She taught me ways of defending myself with spells instead of actual weapons. She always said that waving metal sticks around wouldn't help me if I were in any real danger." Murtagh sat aghast.

"Does she know anything about the world today?" he asked. Nurélia looked at him.

"She lived through the Fall of the Riders. What makes you think that she doesn't know what she's talking about?" Murtagh brushed the question aside.

"Even so, every Rider ever known has known how to fight with a sword. They all had blades the color of their dragons." His face was pensive. "I'm going to teach you how to fight."

"What?" she asked, taken aback. "Why? I just told you of a couple reasons why I never learned, and now you feel like you need to teach me?"

"Look, Nurélia, I understand that your grandmother has witnessed some tough times; I mean, she's an elf. She saw the fall of their city, Ilirea, the Fall of the Riders, and Galbatorix's claim to the throne, but for a _Rider_ to survive in the world today, she needs to learn how to wield a sword."

"Says you," she replied. Murtagh sighed heavily.

"It's getting late. We'll talk more about this tomorrow." He doused the fire and set up his sleeping roll. Nurélia shook her head and turned to Blaze, who was watching their entire conversation.

_I don't care what he says,_ she told Blaze. _I'm not fighting him._ She unrolled her blanket by Blaze's underbelly. He brought his wing over her. _Hey! You can move your wings now._

_Yes. I still can't stand, though._

_I'll figure out a way to free you, Blaze. I promise, _she said with a yawn. She fell asleep to his deep humming.

... ... ... ... ...

The next morning, she awoke to find Thorn and Murtagh gone. _Do you know where they went, Blaze?_ she asked him.

_All they said was that they would be back soon._

_How long ago was that?_

_About a half an hour._

_So the question is: How long is soon?_ The words were barely said when Thorn landed. Murtagh dismounted holding two wooden swords. Nurélia rolled her eyes.

"I saw that," he said. "And I know you're probably thinking that swordsmanship is a waste of time, but you never know; you may actually enjoy it."

"Really?" she scoffed.

"Yes. Here," he said, handing her one of the swords.

"Where did you get these anyway?"

"Thorn and I were searching the desert for them. We found one right away, but the second one took some time. That's what took us so long," he replied. Nurélia narrowed her eyes at him while he gave her a playful grin.

"Funny," she said unenthusiastically. Murtagh's eyes danced.

"We flew to a place where we knew some trees grew and shaped them by magic out of one."

"Now, how hard was that to explain?"

"It wasn't as much fun, though." He spun his wooden sword once by his side. "Now, come on. Get in a stance that feels comfortable to you," he said while taking a stance of his own. She stood where she was. Murtagh charged her, bringing his sword up to hit her. She blocked him, though, and made for his side. He parried her blow, but then had to turn around to block another toward his opposite leg. Her sword kept advancing with incredible speed to where Murtagh could only do enough to block her. He was pushed more and more backward until he realized that she was almost ten feet away, yet her sword was still advancing on him. He was so focused on the sword that he didn't notice she wasn't even holding it. A broad grin spread across her face. The sword, however, wasn't through with him yet and made for his side once again. Unfortunately, Murtagh wasn't paying much attention to the sword, which struck him rather viciously on his hip. He shouted out in pain, making Nurélia release the magic on the sword. It dropped lifelessly to the ground. She rushed over to him.

"Oh! Murtagh, I'm so sorry! Let me heal you."

"No," he said shortly. "That's all right; you've done enough." She suppressed a smile.

"I told you that I didn't want to learn, and this is one of the reasons why." He looked at her, rubbing the place where the sword hit him.

"I wouldn't have gotten hurt if _you_ would have fought me instead of your enchanted sword."

"How are you so sure of that? My grandmother told me that even the least experienced elf is vastly better than a human."

"Maybe so, but you're only part," he said, grimacing in pain.

"Are you sure you don't want me to heal that?" she asked gently.

"I'll do it," he replied, muttering the words to heal himself.

"Why didn't you just stop the sword with magic if you couldn't block it with your sword?" she asked.

"I was a little distracted at the time since realizing that no one was attached to a sword I was fighting with. I didn't have much time to think, much less shout out a spell." Nurélia smiled mischievously. He grabbed his sword and picked up hers, handing it to her. "Here; we'll try this again - but this time, no magic."

"No, I don't think so."

"You'll have to fight me sooner or later."

"Then I choose later," she replied simply. "You were right about one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"I did enjoy it."

"Yeah," he scoffed. "I'm sure it was a lot of fun for you, watching me struggle with a possessed sword." She laughed and went to check on Blaze, leaving Murtagh to stare after her in frustration.

They ate lunch in silence, though Nurélia noticed Murtagh's pensive expression throughout the meal. She stared at him curiously.

"What are you thinking about?" she finally asked. He glanced up.

"Hmm?" he replied clearly distracted. She smiled and repeated her question. "Oh, I was just thinking . . . have you ever tried to free your dragon? You're obviously skilled enough in magic to at least try."

"No, I haven't actually. Do you think I should?" she asked, pondering the possibility.

"It's worth a shot."

_What do _you_ think, Blaze?_ she asked him.

_I wouldn't mind not having to sit here any longer, and if there is a possibility of that changing sooner than expected, then I say go for it._

Nurélia gathered her magic and cautiously poked and pried her way into the spell. She made sure to be extra careful as a spell could backfire and she most certainly didn't want that. She searched for what felt like hours, but couldn't find a weakness in the spell. Finally, she gave up. Her eyes were sympathetic toward her dragon.

_I'm sorry, Blaze._

"Do you think we could break it with two Riders?" Murtagh asked. Nurélia shrugged her shoulders.

"I suppose there's no harm in trying." Nurélia reached for her magic, searching again for what seemed to be an impossible spell to break. She was about to give up when she found a tiny hole in the spell. She worked at the hole, making it bigger and bigger to where she felt the spell weaken and then give way altogether.

Blaze roared enthusiastically as he was finally free of his spell. He soared up in the air, twisting and looping. Then, he and Thorn told their Riders that they were going to find food. Nurélia smiled at her dragon.

_Always thinking about your stomach, aren't you?_ He blew smoke out of his nose and took off. She laughed to herself. Their dragons were gone for quite a while. Darkness soon enveloped their camp and there was still no sign of them. Nurélia wasn't worried, though. She and Murtagh sat around the fire, watching the flames lick the firewood as a child would with a stick of candy. A cool wind breezed through the campsite, making her shiver slightly.

Murtagh must have noticed, because he said, "Are you cold? You're sitting next to a fire."

"I'm facing the fire, yet my back is exposed to the wind. It gets a little chilly every now and then."

"Oh." Murtagh rose and began to shift through Thorn's saddlebags. He extracted a blanket and put it over Nurélia's shoulders. "There," he said softly in her ear. She looked up at him, smiling, their faces only inches apart.

"Thanks," she said in the same tone. He returned her smile, but then cleared his throat and stepped away from her.

"So, uh, what about _your_ language?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, you couldn't have only spoken in this language back home, could you?"

Finally realizing what he meant, she replied, "My grandmother taught me the Ancient Language so I could learn magic, but before her, I did have another language, yes."

"Say something in it," Murtagh said, sitting down beside her.

"Why? You wouldn't be able to understand it."

"I know. I just wanted to hear what it sounded like."

"What shall I say?"

He shrugged his shoulders saying, "Whatever comes to you."

Nurélia thought for a moment. With Murtagh completely oblivious to what she was about to say, she smiled to herself and said, "I ekíl nidneps emít tiw uöy."

"That sounds really neat," he replied, his expression passive. "So, what did you say?"

"Well," she said still smiling. "I said that – you know, it was so much easier when I knew you wouldn't understand me." This made Murtagh much more eager to know what she said, which showed through in his voice when he repeated his question. She smiled shyly. "I said… that I like spending time with you."

"Yeah, me too. I mean, with you; I like spending time with you, too." Her smile broadened. Murtagh then looked at her, uncertainty in his expression. She frowned a little, unsure of the look Murtagh now had.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking at him curiously.

"I, uh, have to tell you something . . . but I'm afraid of what will happen if I do." She gazed into his eyes, searching for some kind of a clue. He looked away before she could get one.

"What is it?" she asked gently. There was a long pause where they both anxiously sat beside one another, though both had a different reason for being so nervous.

Murtagh finally spoke; his tone was insistent. "You have to understand that before you, Galbatorix had a massive influence over Thorn's and my perception of the world and how we thought."

"What are you saying?" she asked, her voice sounding worried. Murtagh hesitated, staring into the fire. She began to rise, but he grabbed her arm gently, his eyes pleading for her not to leave. She sat back down.

Blaze and Thorn appeared out of the dark sky; their eyes filled with confusion at the tense situation. Neither Rider looked at the dragons. Then, Murtagh spoke.

"Thorn and I were sent to capture you and your dragon to bring you two to the King of Alagaësia," he said in a feeble tone. A horrified expression replaced the apprehensive one upon Nurélia's face. She stood up, looking down at him.

"It _was_ you then," she said unemotionally. "How did you lie to me in the Ancient Language?" Murtagh then stood, gazing into her eyes as though trying to make her understand.

"When I told you of the man who attacked you, I really believed he was another person, not who I really am. But the person who was with you for the past two days, was the real me. It must be that I'm too far away from Galbatorix; I don't know, but for some reason he doesn't affect me out here."

He reached out to her, but she evaded his touch and took a step backward. She looked at him, her eyes full of hurt and anger. "How can I believe anything you say?" she whispered. She turned from him and mounted Blaze. Murtagh appeared at her feet.

"Nurélia, wait! Please!" he pleaded. She looked away from him and shook her head.

_Your legs are going to acquire some very nasty wounds riding me like this,_ Blaze warned.

_I don't care. Just get me away from him._

Blaze spread his enormous wings, and with one single leap, they were high in the air.

* * *

This is my longest chapter so far. I hope you enjoyed it! Well, I mean, except for maybe the end. That's a little shakey. Also, I apologize for taking so long to update. School's been hectic.

For my anonymous reviewers:

**luva:** Thanks again! But for a really creative story, you should read Naïve Awareness by **alsdssg**. It's long, but worth it. :)

**BlindSeer:** That's all right. Thanks for reviewing anyway! I like Blaze, too. He's one of my favorite characters. :)

**Super-hero Fan:** Thanks for your review! I think you might enjoy this chapter. I think it pretty much answered most, if not all, of your questions. :)

**FireDancer:** Thanks for reviewing!

Review!!


	11. Chapter Ten

100 reviews!! I'm so— That's just— I'm speechless! Just for that, this chapter is extra long (over 3,900 words!) I hope you like it. You guys are SO great! Thank you all so much!

Disclaimer: See _Prologue _

* * *

_Chapter Ten_

Tears fell freely from Nurélia's eyes. _I should have known,_ she said to Blaze in a low tone.

_Don't be ridiculous, Ré. How could you?_

_Arya said he was a traitor, didn't she? Why did I trust him?_

_You let you heart lead you instead of your head._

_My heart? That's absurd! The only feelings I have for him are of loathing._

_You say that now because he hurt you, but what you felt the past couple of days wasn't extreme dislike._

_Why can't you just let me hate him?_ Her tears were flowing rapidly now, but it was mostly because of the pain in her legs caused by Blaze's harsh scales.

_What kind of a dragon would I be if I let my Rider become corrupt with hatred? You need to try and see it from his perspective. Do you really think he had a choice in trying to capture you? Besides, I'm sure Galbatorix expected him back days ago, yet Murtagh is still here. . . . I'm landing down there. As much as you want to deny it, my scales are completely tearing your legs apart._

Once he landed, Nurélia took a couple of minutes to heal her wounds and then slid off his back. She stumbled, then fell to her hands and knees as her legs were still quite sore. When she rose to look around, she concluded that Blaze landed in the middle of nowhere - nothing but sand in all directions with the exception of a small desert plant every here and there. Blaze lay down and opened one wing to her. She smiled and climbed under it graciously. Entombed in her dragon's protection, she let her mind travel to his words of reasoning over Murtagh's situation with the King.

… … … … …

Murtagh paced before the fire, making a fairly deep rut in the sand. _What am I going to do, Thorn? I can't return empty handed again. There's no telling what Galbatorix will do._

_Why didn't you just stop her from leaving? You know you could have dropped her dragon with one spell._

_And _you_ know why I didn't. Why even ask?_

_To hear it confirmed. You like her, and it's clouding your judgment. We should have returned to Galbatorix with the girl and her dragon days ago._

'_Clouding my judgment'? What do you think Galbatorix was doing to us? She led me away from his dreadful vision of becoming the Supreme Ruler. Could you imagine _him_ ruling all of Alagaësia?_ Thorn was silent, but Murtagh felt his revulsion of the thought. He stared into the fire, poking at the flames with a stick.

After awhile, Thorn lay down behind to him. Murtagh leaned back against his side and said, _Why did I even tell her?_ _We were having a good time just talking. . . _– His eyes narrowed, and he threw the stick into the hungry flames – A_nd then I ruined it by opening my big mouth!_

_It's good that you told her, really._ Murtagh looked up at him skeptically. _I'm serious,_ Thorn continued._ It would have gone a lot worse if she found out on her own. _

_A lot worse? She's gone, Thorn, and probably not coming back even for hers and Blaze's things._

_Oh, stop being so dramatic. She'll be back. Even if she is skilled in magic, she still needs Blaze's saddle. There isn't anything out here to make one, and she isn't going to walk to wherever they are heading,_ he reasoned. Murtagh's eyes lit up for a brief moment.

_You're right! She will have to come back for the saddle, and I'll be waiting with a good argument for her to stay with me. But what to say. . . _He thought well into the night and ended up falling asleep by the smoldering fire.

The bright morning sun awoke him. It took him a couple of seconds to become fully awake to where he sat up and looked around hastily.

_She hasn't arrived yet,_ Torn told him. Murtagh slumped his shoulders downheartedly. As the morning fast approached noon, he became anxious.

_What if she doesn't show?_

_Then, unfortunately, we're going to have to go after them and bring them to Galbatorix against their will._

_Let's just hope it doesn't come to that._

No sooner did the words leave his thoughts when he saw what looked like fire in the sky and knew at once that it was Blaze. He heaved a sigh of relief – which was immediately repressed when he noticed that Nurélia wasn't upon him. Blaze landed in front of Thorn, who bowed his head slightly to the older dragon out of respect. Blaze returned the gesture and then turned his head to where one of his big, gray eyes was only a few feet from Murtagh. Murtagh's heart pounded in his throat. The situation was very intimidating.

_I am here on behalf of my Rider, whom still refuses to see you even after much persuading._

"I understand," he replied. "I wouldn't want to see me either. . . . But if she'd just give me another chance, I promise I'll make it up to her." Blaze moved his eye away from him, yet he still kept a watch over the young man.

_She would like to know how exactly you propose to carry out this promise you speak of _before_ agreeing to give you one more chance._

"All right. I plan to steal the last dragon egg from Galbatorix and give it to Eragon, but I need her help to do this. If I ever see Eragon again, I have to do all that I can to capture him, and then all of the Dragon Riders in Alagaësia will be under his control."

Blaze was silent for several minutes and then said, _We're intrigued. How do you plan to do this?_

Murtagh took a deep breath. "Well, the plan still has a few kinks in it, since I only just came up with the idea last night, but basically, we all go to Urû'baen, break through the enchantments guarding the egg, and then you and Nurélia fly off toward wherever Eragon is hiding to deliver the egg to him." Blaze nodded his head and walked toward his saddle.

_I'll be a minute,_ Blaze said as he grabbed his saddle with his claws, spread his wings, and leaped into the air. Murtagh raised his silvered palm out of anxiety to let him leave.

_That won't be necessary,_ Thorn told him. Murtagh's hand descended slowly.

_You'd better be right._

After a couple of minutes, Blaze returned with his saddle and Nurélia upon his back. Murtagh's stomach gave an unusual lurch when he saw her. Once Blaze landed, she slid off his back and strode over to him.

"I want you to keep in mind that I'm still upset with you, and that I only came back to go through with your vague but good idea." Murtagh nodded his head. She was with him and that was all he cared about then. She eyed him disbelievingly. "This is strictly business."

"Understood."

"Good. Now, I have a couple suggestions."

They talked well into the evening until their plan was completed and without fault to the best of their knowledge. When the sun finally sunk and Murtagh had a fire going, Nurélia turned to him.

"We have a problem."

"Oh? What is that?"

"Well, if I am to lie to your King, I'm going to have to learn Alagaësian, but I don't have enough time to do so," Nurélia said. Murtagh thought for a moment.

"I suppose I could try a spell to let you speak and understand my language."

"There's a spell for that?"

"There are spells for many things I couldn't believe was possible," he said. "Galbatorix taught me them, not even the elves dare speak them."

"Spells that should remain secrets," Nurélia muttered.

"Eragon said something similar when I told him of the spells."

"Well, it's true. My grandmother told me horrible stories of the things that happened when those spells are used."

"Yes, but your grandmother's an elf, which makes her stories biased. Now, close your eyes free your mind from all thought."

"You are _not_ going to use one of those spells on me," she said defiantly. Murtagh frowned.

"Do you want to steal the egg or not?"

"Yes."

"Then you'll need to speak Alagaësian. Now close your eyes." She did so, but reluctantly. "The spell won't work if you're resistant," he lectured.

"Fine! Then you'll have to give me a minute," she said derisively. She walked away from him with her hands in fists by her sides. Blaze and she looked as though they were discussing the situation, so Murtagh let them be. When she returned several minutes later, she inclined her head to Murtagh and she closed her eyes. He muttered the spell and knowledge of an unknown but now familiar language seeped into Nurélia's head. It felt strange to somehow know a language without having to learn it. She went over the language in her head.

"You know, this language isn't really all that different from mine, apart from the fact that it sounds different," Nurélia commented in Alagaësian.

"Uh, yeah . . . _that_ made sense," Murtagh said sarcastically. She glared at him.

"I _meant_ that your grammar and sentence structure is similar to mine," she shot back.

"Oh."

"Actually," she continued. "Alagaësian is my language, only, the words are backwards." Confusion passed over Murtagh's face. "Look," she said, taking one of the sticks Murtagh gathered for his fire. She then began to write something in the sand. When she finished, she gestured for Murtagh to read it. He walked over and stood beside her. In the sand was a sentence written in Alagaësian and then underneath he supposed was her language. The two sentences read as:

**Your language is my language, only, the words are backwards.**

**Rüoy égaugnal sí ym égaugnal, ylno, eht sdrow era sdrawkcab.**

"You mean, _your_ language is _my_ language and _your_ words are backwards," Murtagh replied. Nurélia rolled her eyes. "Though I must admit, it _is_ quite coincidental."

"Maybe," said Nurélia. Murtagh shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, anyway, now that you can speak Alagaësian and nothing bad happened to you after the spell was preformed—"

"Yet," Nurélia added.

Murtagh ignored her comment and continued as though she didn't interrupt, "We might as well get some rest, since we have a big day ahead of ourselves."

"Yes, I suppose we should." While Nurélia took Blaze's saddle off of him, Murtagh's thoughts wandered to his pledge to Galbatorix. If the King didn't force him and Thorn into swearing themselves to him, maybe he and Nurélia would be heading toward wherever Eragon and his dragon were instead. Then suddenly, another problem in their plan revealed itself to him.

"Nurélia?"

"Hmm?" she replied sleepily.

"We have another problem." Nurélia sat up.

"What's the matter?"

"Galbatorix will want you to swear fealty to him in the Ancient Language, and the only way you'll be able to get to Eragon is if you aren't bound to Galbatorix."

Nurélia nodded her head in acknowledgement, her eyes determined. "Blaze and I have a plan for avoiding pledging ourselves to Galbatorix. I just hope he doesn't see through it."

Murtagh looked at her seriously. "Are you sure you want to go through with this? He's very powerful."

"Yes, I'm sure," she said firmly. "That egg deserves freedom, not to be locked up in some treasure room waiting for someone under his control to be chosen again."

……………

Gray clouds loomed overhead when the two awoke the next morning. Nurélia looked to the heavens.

"A gloomy sky for a gloomy day," she said. Murtagh nodded. They packed everything up and mounted their dragons, who took off immediately.

It was midday when they arrived in Urû'baen. A servant was standing in front of the front doors to greet them. They dismounted and Murtagh walked up to the balding, middle-aged man. The servant kept his eyes on the ground.

"Master Murtagh. I'm very pleased you have returned. His majesty would like to see you straight away."

"I figured he would," he replied. They walked past the man and Nurélia followed Murtagh until he stopped at two huge double-doors. "Perhaps you should go in first. It'll make me look good bringing you in without a struggle." Nurélia nodded her head, too nervous to speak.

The doors opened wide to reveal Galbatorix sitting on his throne. He was dressed in very fine clothes and wore an elegant, golden crown upon his head. His black hair ended just above his elbows, yet it was so thin that the points of his ears were visible through it. He looked a great deal like an elf; though, Nurélia knew it was because of him being a Rider for so long. His cold, blue eyes surveyed her and Blaze while they walked toward him. Then, he spotted Murtagh and Thorn.

"Murtagh," he said in a voice that was completely unexpected. It was deep and smooth. "I must admit you had me on edge these past couple of days when you and Thorn didn't return to me immediately after finding the girl." Murtagh's eyes grew wide. Galbatorix smiled wickedly. "Yes, I knew exactly when you found her. I _was_ going to punish you for your insubordination, but since you returned with her so willing to serve under me, I'll let it pass this time." Then his voice developed a hard edge to it. "Be warned, though, Murtagh. The next time I find you disobedient, I won't be so forgiving."

"Yes, Sire." Galbatorix turned his attention to Nurélia.

"So, how long have you been a Rider, girl?" Nurélia gritted her teeth and felt her blood rise at being called 'girl', as though that was her name.

"My name is Nurélia," she replied with a hint of annoyance. The King's eyes narrowed. "And I've been a Rider for a little over a year now."

Suddenly, a powerful force entered her consciousness, making her recoil behind her barriers. Her struggle must have shown on her face, because she heard Murtagh shout, "Don't fight him, Nurélia. It'll only make it worse."

_Hide anything we don't want him to see, Blaze,_ she said. She felt Blaze begin to guard certain memories and knowledge, but she couldn't hold the King back any longer. Galbatorix pushed through viciously. She fell to her knees. It was the most painful thing she'd ever experienced, even worse than her flying without a saddle. When he finally extracted his mind from hers, some of the pain remained, leaving her head pounding.

"Interesting," he muttered. Nurélia glared at him from the floor. "There's one last thing I want before you're shown to your rooms. I need to hear you two pledge your loyalty to me in the Ancient Language." Nurélia stood defiantly.

"I won't do it," she said. His eyes flashed dangerously.

"You're playing with death here, girl. You realize that, don't you?" She looked straight into his eyes.

"Threatening me won't get you anywhere." Galbatorix leaned back in his throne, his expression pensive. After what seemed like several minutes, he finally spoke.

"Perhaps my threats just need to be directed to another life." He glanced at Blaze. Nurélia's heart leapt in her throat.

"No," she whispered. Galbatorix smirked wickedly, knowing he'd touched a weakness.

"It's exceedingly painful for a Rider to lose his dragon. It's as though part of yourself died. I should know. So I'll leave you with two choices," he said sneering. "Join me, or your dragon dies. It's that simple."

Tears of anger began to well in Nurélia's eyes as she thought about the threat on her dragon. Her expression hardened, and she hesitantly kneeled down on one knee and bowed her head, speaking in a defeated tone.

"I, Nurélia Wynne Arnaëdis, pledge myself to you, the one true master of the Dragon Riders."

Galbatorix grinned maniacally. "You too, dragon," he spat. Blaze looked at the King with an iron stare and blew smoke out his nose. After what felt like several minutes with Galbatorix and Blaze staring at each other, Blaze slowly lowered his mighty head.

_I, Blaze, also pledge myself to you, the one true master of the Dragon Riders._ They kept their heads bowed in waiting, and Nurélia let her tears fall.

"Excellent," Galbatorix whispered, his eyes gleaming maliciously. "Murtagh."

"Sire?"

"Escort these two new members of our little family to their quarters."

"Yes, Sire."

… … … … …

Murtagh led them to the dragon hold first where Nurélia bid Blaze goodbye until tomorrow. She hated leaving him there with Galbatorix's corrupted dragon, Shruikan, but at least Thorn could keep him company. Then, Murtagh led Nurélia to the West wing of the castle where her room was. They reached her door, and Nurélia opened it to go inside. Murtagh gently grabbed her elbow. She stopped in her doorway and turned to him.

"You're too bold for your own good, you know," he said softly. She gave him a weak smile.

"That was all an act, believe me. I was trembling inside."

He shook his head in response, muttered a spell to shield their conversation from unwanted listeners, and said, "I still can't believe you and Blaze pledged to him. I thought you had a plan for evading that."

"We did," she replied, smiling deviously. Murtagh looked at her in confusion.

"I don't understand. I heard you two."

"Yes, you did hear us, but it's what you _didn't_ hear that's important. Another name followed the seemingly apparent reference to the King."

"Really?" he said, sounding impressed. "Who did you really pledge to? And how did Galbatorix not catch it?"

"Blaze used his ability to block a part of ourselves from Galbatorix to keep him from knowing anything we don't want him to know. As for whom we really pledged to, I cannot tell you because of your connection with the King. I can't let him know one of the elf's greatest secrets." She could tell that he didn't like not knowing, but he nodded his head.

"All right." He turned to leave, and then added, "A servant will be up soon to help you get settled and serve your dinner. Galbatorix may be cruel at times, but when things go his way, he makes sure that the people responsible for his happiness – or, in Blaze's case, dragon responsible – are well taken care of." He smiled at her. "My room is two doors down if you need anything."

"Okay, thanks," she replied and shut her door. Her room wasn't at all how she imagined a room in the dark castle would look like. She admired the deep cherry oak furniture, which consisted of a small table, two chairs, an armoire, and a beautiful four-posture bed. The walls were a soft yellow with intricate, but tasteful, silver designs, while a huge bay window overlooked the troubled city. She opened the window and gazed at the scene, thinking back to when Urû'baen was once the elven city, Ilirea. She imagined how beautiful the scene outside her window would have looked then, especially now with the setting sun splashing soft hues of pink, orange, and yellow across the sky. A small voice outside her door drew her from her thoughts.

"Miss?" Knocking was then heard and she went to open her door. A girl, who looked to be around the age of twelve, with mousy brown hair and a stained apron stood in the doorway, carrying a silver tray with a dinner plate and cover upon it. Nurélia stepped aside to let the girl through, who looked as if she were struggling with the seemingly heavy tray. She set it on the table, and then turned to Nurélia with her head down.

"His majesty requests your presence in his throne room tomorrow after breakfast, miss," she said in a soft tone. She then took out a single match, lit the nearest candle to her, blew out the match, and began to light the candles that encircled the room with the first candle, since the light from the sun was quickly fading. A sudden wind burst through the open window, dowsing the flames the girl only just lit.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed in a whisper.

"What is it?" Nurélia asked. The girl faced her, keeping a close watch on her shoes as though they might disappear if she ever looked away from them.

"Begging your pardon, miss, but I only brought one match. I didn't expect the window to be open. I shall go fetch another one from the kitchens right away, if you wish. It'll only take me five minutes if I run. I'm really, very sorry, miss," she replied. Her tone sounded frightened, and Nurélia wondered if the girl thought she'd punish her. She smiled to reassure the girl, but she never took her eyes off her shoes.

"Don't be ridiculous. I won't have you run all that way for no reason. Brisingr," she said, and with that the candles ignited with bright orange flames, which illuminated the room. The girl's face was one in awe. Then, as though remembering her place, she bowed to leave.

"Just a moment, please," Nurélia said. The girl halted and turned to Nurélia, still keeping her eyes to the floor. "What is your name?"

"Ciarra, miss," she said barely louder than a whisper. Nurélia reached out to the girl, who stiffened at the sight of a raised hand, but then relaxed when Nurélia placed her hand under the girl's chin and gently forced her head to look at her. Ciarra's eyes focused on the wall to Nurélia's left.

"I am not royalty, or a master, nor am I one to fear, so there is no reason why your eyes must be downcast when speaking to me." The girl hesitated.

"I don't mean to speak out of place, but I was taught to never look above the waist of anyone higher than a servant, miss."

"Well, I'm giving you permission, so I don't see the problem. If anyone says otherwise, tell them to see me." Ciarra hesitated once more and then her eyes gradually met Nurélia's.

"Yes, miss," Ciarra replied. Nurélia removed her hand.

"And that goes for every other person that waits on me. Spread it around."

"Yes, miss. . . . If that is all, I must be getting back to my chores."

"Very well. You may go," Nurélia said. Ciarra bowed and left. Nurélia shook her head at the way Galbatorix treated his servants, knowing that she and Eragon _had_ to do something about it. Murtagh was lost to Galbatorix, unless somehow they killed the vile King and released Murtagh from the hold he was under, but how exactly were they going to destroy a King who grows more powerful with each passing day?

Nurélia sighed heavily, walked over to the tray, and lifted the lid. She was expecting some type of meat and gasped in surprise at the mound of fresh fruits and vegetables that occupied the plate. There was even half a loaf of bread. After saying a spell to detect any poisons and finding none, she took the bread and popped a piece of it in her mouth. It wasn't as good as her grandmother's elven bread, but it would suffice. Once she finished her dinner, Ciarra was at the door to bring the dishes back to the kitchen. She then lay upon her bed, anticipating what the morning would bring.

* * *

By the way, the part where Nurélia loopholes her oath to Galbatorix isn't my idea. I read it in another Eragon fanfiction but can't remember which one, so this is my disclaimer to whomever the creator of the idea is. :)

Also, the idea for the use of a spell to know a language without having to learn it goes to **Fallen-Yuki**. Thanks for letting me borrow it.

For my anonymous reviewer:

**luva:** Thank you! You're really too sweet. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Review, please!!


	12. Chapter Eleven

Thanks so much to my reviewers!!

Disclaimer: See _Prologue _

* * *

_Chapter Eleven_

Nurélia awoke with an odd feeling. She was sure something disrupted her sleep, yet she couldn't think of what it was. Her room was bright with the signs of a new day, but it still felt early to her. She was grateful that there wasn't a window facing east so the sun's dazzling rays didn't awake her at the brink of dawn. After several seconds and a rather large yawn, she brushed off the feeling, turned over and closed her eyes. Just as she was about to succumb to the commands of her drowsy condition, a brisk knocking was heard, startling her out of her light slumber. She sunk deeper into her pillow and groaned before sitting up.

"Miss?" said a familiar voice from the other side of her door. Nurélia rose from her bed.

"Just a moment," she replied. She opened the wardrobe, which she found last night to contain, to her surprise, several noble feminine clothes (she was expecting servant's attire), and grabbed the blue silk robe that hung on one of the doors. She slipped it on and opened her door where Ciarra stood carrying the silver tray.

"Hello, Ciarra," she greeted with a smile.

"Good morning, miss," the girl said, setting the tray on the table near the window.

"Thank you." Nurélia lifted the lid to find a bowl of porridge and another of fresh fruit. She made a slight grimace. "Do you like porridge, Ciarra?" she asked, turning around to find the girl looking at her breakfast hungrily before averting her eyes. Nurélia frowned at the sight.

"I think it's pretty good," Ciarra replied.

"Have you eaten already?"

"Yes."

"Really? What did you have?" Ciarra hesitated.

"Well, I, uh, had . . ." she mumbled.

"I'm sorry; you had what?"

"I had half of an apple," she said to her shoes. Then she added hastily, "And I'm very grateful."

"Half of an apple?" Nurélia repeated in a slightly harsh tone. "That is not a breakfast. It's a snack." Then, Nurélia gave her a warm smile. "You can have my porridge. I'm not a big fan of the clumpy, soggy stuff."

"I really couldn't, miss, but thank you."

"Ciarra, you _are_ obliged to do what I ask, are you not?"

"What does 'obliged' mean?" she asked.

"It means to be required to do something."

"Oh. Yes, I am."

"Then I order you to eat my porridge," Nurélia said with a falsely stern expression. Ciarra grinned.

"Yes, miss."

The girls ate Nurélia's breakfast in the warm sunlight that shone through the bay window. Then, while Ciarra was packing the dishes on the tray, she asked, "Should I inform the cooks not to bring you porridge anymore, since you don't like it?"

"Only if you do not wish to join me for breakfast every morning," Nurélia replied.

"I think I'd feel kind of weird having them make the porridge for me."

"Then think of it as though she's making it for me and I'm just giving it to you."

Ciarra smiled and began to head for the door. Before she left, though, she turned back to Nurélia and said, "Oh! I'm to remind you to see the King whenever you get dressed, miss."

"Thank you, Ciarra." The girl bowed and left. Nurélia looked for a washroom in her room, and finding none, she secured the robe around her and headed down the hall. She stopped at the door one down from hers and knocked.

"What is it?" came Murtagh's voice from the other side.

"It's me. I need to—" The door opened and, once Murtagh saw that she was in her robe and not normal clothes, he flushed and turned from her. A small grin spread across her lips.

"For crying out loud, Murtagh. I have a robe on."

"_Why_ are you dressed like that," he asked still refusing to turn around.

"I can't find a washroom, and you told me to come to you if I needed anything."

"You have one in your room." Nurélia stared at his back in confusion.

"What? I looked all over and couldn't find one."

"It's behind the curtain."

"What curtain? I didn't see a curtain." Murtagh groaned in aggravation.

"Women are so difficult," he muttered as he grabbed Nurélia by her hand. She was about to protest and yank her hand away after his comment, but his touch sent shivers up her arm. So, she let him lead her to her room. When they reached her doorway, she looked around a second time and still couldn't see the curtain he was talking about.

"Hmm…" he said. "Your room is nicer than mine."

"Focus. Do _you_ see a curtain? Because I don't."

"No, but that doesn't mean your room doesn't have a washroom."

"Oh? Then where is it?" Murtagh walked over to her wardrobe, bringing Nurélia along since he still had a hold of her hand. He opened it and pulled at a thick string that Nurélia didn't notice earlier. The wall next to the wardrobe slid back in the shape of a doorway, and then shifted to the right, revealing a spacious washroom with a shelf of soaps.

"And your washroom is definitely bigger," said Murtagh. Nurélia smirked and playfully hit him with the hand that was still in his. It was then that he must have realized he was still holding her hand, because he dropped it suddenly with a muttered apology.

"You don't have to apologize," she told him. He smiled at her and they stared at each other, but then Murtagh cleared his throat.

"Well, uh, you need to, to get ready, and the King needs to – I mean _I_ need to go see the King. I'll see you later." And with that, he left her room. She smiled after him. Once she was clean and dressed in a light green tunic and black leggings, she made her way to the throne room.

Galbatorix was sitting just as he had yesterday, only this time he wore a smirk. She wasn't sure what exactly that meant, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Murtagh was looking uncomfortable on the King's right.

"Well, come in," Galbatorix growled. It was then that she noticed she was standing in the doorway. She stopped a few yards away from where the King sat.

"I assume you've slept well and had a good breakfast," he said rather than asked. It was as though he was telling her she did instead of her actually saying so. Deciding it was probably best to just agree with him, she nodded her head. "Well, speak up."

"Yes, sire. I did. Thank you."

"Good, good. Today we will see how well your swordsmanship abilities are developed."

"Begging your pardon, sire," Murtagh began, "but Nurélia has barely even held a sword much less fight with one."

"When I want to hear your voice, Murtagh, I'll ask you to speak. Otherwise, I suggest you keep your tongue still, unless you want it removed from your mouth," he said in a deadly whisper.

"Yes, sire."

"Is what he said true?" Galbatorix asked Nurélia while he kept a menacing stare on Murtagh.

"Yes, sire." The King's gaze then fell upon her. His expression was almost jovial, yet he still had an evil glint.

"Well, then. This should be interesting." He chuckled to himself. "Murtagh, get her a sword and your own. You're going to teach her how to fight." Murtagh bowed his head and left the room.

"What if I have no desire to learn?" Nurélia asked with a hint of irritation in her voice. Suddenly, an invisible hand began to tighten around her throat and throw her across the room. She heard Blaze roar in protest through her mind and from somewhere outside. Its force shook the castle, which she felt even through the stone floor.

"Don't ever talk back to me, girl, or both you and your dragon will suffer. Do you understand me?" Nurélia picked herself up off the floor just as Murtagh entered the room again. He exchanged glances from the cold stare of the King to the fiery stare of Nurélia.

_What happened?_ he asked her. She didn't break her stare, nor did she answer. She walked back to where she stood prior to being thrown.

"I asked you a question," Galbatorix growled.

"I understand," she said angrily.

"Good. Now take a sword from Murtagh and begin." She walked over to Murtagh, who handed her a sword. "Oh, and Murtagh," Galbatorix called, "Don't go easy on her. That's an order."

Murtagh looked almost horrified but recovered at once. Nurélia shot the King a glare mixed with shock.

"Are you insane? He could slice me in half!" He gave her a wicked grin.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said nonchalantly. "The blades are protected. Begin!"

Nurélia clenched her jaw so as not to say anything she would regret later and turned toward Murtagh. They took their poses and Nurélia waited for Murtagh to make the first move. He advanced with astonishing speed. Nurélia only just blocked his sword but very ineffectively. The force of his sword against hers brought hers down against her side, bruising at least two ribs. She cried out in pain, but Murtagh wasn't allowed to stop. His eyes told her how sorry he was as he whipped his sword around.

_Your left leg!_ This confused her at first and was almost too late but then realized what he was doing and jumped to avoid his sword just in time. The fight went on with Murtagh giving her hints of where he was going to strike next. She mostly avoided his blows but then she figured that the King was most likely becoming suspicious. Thus when Murtagh shouted for her to block her left side, she raised her sword and actually put some force behind her block. She grimaced in pain as the motion stretched out her ribs. The move also made Murtagh's blade almost bounce off hers and his sword came for her right much quicker than she was able to stop, even with Murtagh's helpful shouts. The sword caught her hip, making her lose her balance and fall. Her sword slid across the floor. Murtagh stepped forward and pointed his blade at her throat.

"That was the most pitiful display of swordsmanship I've ever seen," Galbatorix said in a bored tone. "I thought you were part elf? If Murtagh hadn't been giving you hints the entire time, this pathetic fight would have been over within ten seconds." Murtagh removed his sword from Nurélia's throat, and she picked herself up, though shakily. She continued to glare at the King. He sneered at her saying, "I hope you know how much you've disgraced your grandmother's kind."

She narrowed her eyes at him but knew he was right and eventually lowered her head in shame. It was true that even the most inexperienced elf could defeat a human – but then, she wasn't a full elf, and Murtagh wasn't just any human.

"You've severely disappointed me, Murtagh. I'd figure she would be at least be better than that. You've brought me a completely _useless_ Dragon Rider. Congratulations."

Nurélia's face burned. She may not be skilled with a sword, but she had other talents. Her hands balled into fists and her eyes discretely flicked in the direction of the sword that lay on the floor several feet from her right. With lightening speed, the sword flew toward the King's head. He barely moved in time, making the sword bury itself deep in the throne only inches from his ear. His eyes were wide with shock and then quickly flashed red. He reached up and pulled the sword out.

"Impressive," he said darkly as he examined the sword. "You even managed to remove its protective shield. I may have use for you after all. Lucky you. . . . _Un_luckily, though, you _will_ pay for this threat on my life. I am quite curious how you managed to do so while still pledged to me, but don't worry, I'll figure out your secret soon enough. You will retire to your room until I determine a proper punishment for your disobedience."

Nurélia gave him one last glare before walking out of the room.

* * *

Yea! Another chapter out!

**luva:** Thank you! And no problem. I reply to everyone if they review. :)

Review!!


	13. Chapter Twelve

Yea! Six great reviews! You guys really know how to make a girl's day! Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: See _Prologue_

* * *

_Chapter Twelve_

Once Nurélia was outside the throne room, she closed the door and leaned against it. Her heart was racing. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and almost cried out in pain as her bruised ribs stretched. Then, the pain in her hip came back in full. She tensed up in pain, and tears formed in her eyes. She figured that her anger must have blinded her from her pain.

_What were you thinking?_ came Blaze's voice. _You know better than to lose your temper like that!_ Nurélia didn't answer. Instead, she gathered her energy and concentrated on the spell to heal herself. Once it was said for both her ribs and hip, she began to breathe much more easily. She headed for her room.

_Were you listening to me earlier?_ Blaze asked.

_Yes, and I know. I'm sorry. He just made me so angry!_

_Well, let's hope your punishment isn't too horrible._

Back in her room, she lay on her bed in anticipation for a little while before someone knocked on her door. Her heart felt as though it stopped beating for a few seconds. She hesitantly rose from her bed and very slowly made her way to the door. When she finally opened it, she was surprised to see Murtagh. He gave her a small smile, making her stomach twist despite her growing trepidation.

"Took you long enough," he said.

"Well, what do you expect? I don't move very fast when I'm dreading something."

"I'm not here to collect you."

"Oh." She stepped aside to let him in her room. "Then why _are_ you here?"

"To apologize for earlier . . . and to see how you were doing," he added a little shyly.

"You came to see how I was doing?" she asked with a smile.

"Yeah, but it looks like you're okay," he said. Her smile made his heart race.

"That's really sweet. Although, it depends on your definition of 'okay'. . . . I'm in real trouble, aren't I?"

"Oh no. Not at all," he said sarcastically. "You only tried to kill the most evil King Alagaësia has ever known. Not to mention have him question how you attempted to kill him while still supposedly pledged to him when you and I both know that you really aren—"

Nurélia hastily cupped his mouth and hissed, "Are you insane? Don't you think he's listening?"

Murtagh gently removed her hand. "Of course I did, which is why I placed a spell around the room to shield our conversation before I even knocked on the door."

"Oh," she replied, bowing her head and giving an embarrassed laugh. She fidgeted with her hands. "Sorry. I'm just anxious, I guess."

Murtagh swallowed hard. She was only inches away from him, and with him being only a half of a head taller than she was, her hair was at his nose. It smelled like honeysuckle. She finally walked away from him and his head cleared. He was a little reluctant for her to be away from him, and he almost reached out to pull her back, but then she spoke.

"So, was seeing if I was okay your only reason for coming here?"

He quickly lowered his outstretched hand before she turned back at him. He cleared his throat. "Actually, no. I figured we could decide when would be a good time to go over the details of our plan now that we're here."

Nurélia nodded her head. "That's a good idea. I don't know what Galbatorix is going to do to me, so tonight might not be good. How about tomorrow night? After dinner?"

"Tomorrow night it is then." He smiled and headed for the door. "Oh," he said turning back to her. "I think I better warn you that Galbatorix has ordered for me to teach you how to swordfight everyday from now on." Then he left with Nurélia groaning in irritation.

About a half an hour after Murtagh left, she heard a knock at her door again, making her stomach drop. _This is it,_ she thought to herself nervously. She opened the door to reveal a middle-aged woman with a grim look on her face. She stared at Nurélia's shoes, which somewhat annoyed her since she told the servants to use eye contact when addressing her, but she was too nervous to say anything other than, "Yes?"

"Beggin' yer pardon, miss. The King would like ter see you now," she said in a rather raspy voice, as though it didn't get much use.

"Thank you." Nurélia walked down the corridors to the throne room, stopping outside the doors to take a deep breath before entering. The King sat on his throne with a very evil grin upon his lips, which made goose bumps arise on Nurélia's arms. She watched him watch her and noticed a gleam in his eyes when he saw her nervousness.

"I'm rather pleased to see that I can strike fear into one who attempted to kill me," he sneered. Nurélia didn't say anything. He continued in his calm, smooth way of talking. "I fancy myself an understanding ruler. I'll admit that I did provoke you."

Nurélia's eyebrows met in confusion. Was he letting her go without retaliation? No, this had to be some way to throw her off.

"I just didn't know your gesture to get back at me would be so violent. Although, I must say, you did surprise me. It's good to see that you have at least _some_ of your elven traits, and I can teach you so much more to make you even more powerful. . . . However," he said with a hint of malice.

Yep, she knew it. His flattery was just to set her hopes high, and now he was going to crush them.

"I cannot let your threat on my life going unpunished, which is why I came up with the perfect retribution. . . . You will watch Shruikan repeatedly attack your pathetic, overgrown lizard until he is on his last breath—"

"No!" Nurélia shouted. "Your issue is with me; keep Blaze out of this!"

"No, I don't think I will. You see, I thought about this for a while and it seemed to me that the best way to teach you a lesson was to make your dragon take the punishment for you."

"No, please!"

"I've thought it all out," he continued as though he couldn't hear her pleas. "It's really quite ingenious, if I say so myself. You'll still feel everything he does, _and_ you'll feel even worse because _you_ are the reason he has to suffer, and he didn't do anything."

"Please, don't," she begged, falling to her knees. Her cheeks were streaked with tears.

"Tell me, Nurélia, why do you hate your dragon so much?"

"No! It was my mistake! Please, don't make him do this!"

"I'm sorry," he said with no trace of sympathy whatsoever. In fact, he was smiling. "But my mind is made up. You really should have thought of the consequences of your actions if you had failed."

Nurélia buried her face in her hands and cried silently. _Blaze, I'm so sorry._

_Don't worry about it, little one. I actually prefer it to be me than you._

_But it isn't supposed to be for you._

_No, but I can handle it._ She wiped her face, though her tears didn't stop, and stared at the floor.

_I don't want you to block any of your pain for me, do you understand?_ Blaze didn't answer.

"Get up," the King said in an annoyed tone. She had no intention of moving, but then all of the sudden, she felt herself being forced to stand and not very gently either. He made her follow him to the dragon hold where Blaze would endure her punishment. They sat high up in a stone cavern where Riders could sleep with their dragons if they wished. Galbatorix turned to her.

"This is how the game works," he began. "Your dra—"

"Game?! My dragon is about to fight for his life, and you view this as a game?"

"Oh, no," he said rather darkly. "You misunderstood me. Your dragon won't be able to do a thing to stop Shruikan, so you see, he won't be fighting."

Nurélia stood there dumbstruck. "What?!"

Galbatorix smiled evilly. "As I was saying, your dragon will stand there while Shruikan attacks him until he can barely stand much longer, and then you can run to try and heal him before he dies – that is, _if _you can get through my enchantments in time."

"Your enchantments?"

"I've already placed spells around you to where the only connection you have to anything outside of them is the pain between you and your dragon. You'll have to break them to get to him, as they restrain you as well – unless, of course, you think it will be much easier to let him die."

"Never," she replied furiously. He smiled his evil smile.

"Then let the game begin." He looked down to where the two dragons were. She followed his gaze and noticed with pride that Blaze held his head high and not in fear. Though, it was probably more because Shruikan was as big as a mountain and therefore impossible to see him eye-to-eye without looking up.

Suddenly, Shruikan surged forward in a blinded rage, slicing Blaze's left wing and leaving a tear from limb to tip. Together dragon and Rider cried out in pain. Nurélia felt as though her own arm was on fire. Shruikan continued to slash at Blaze, who couldn't do anything in his defense. Nurélia fell on all fours as the pain of every wound surged through her. She had to concentrate and break the enchantments before Blaze's injuries worsened, but she couldn't think of anything else. She heard Galbatorix's wicked laughter echo through the room. Then, his voice hissed close to her ear.

"I love how entertaining some lessons can be taught," he said. Nurélia glared at him through a side glance. The fury building up inside of her somehow gave her strength to focus, which let her find the tiny hole in the evil King's enchantments. She burst through them with a vigor rivaling a tornado.

Galbatorix only looked at her with his evil grin. "You'd better hurry," he sneered. "Your pathetic dragon won't be able to last much longer."

Within seconds, she was running as fast as she could, with the blinding pain ever present, through the passageway leading to the ground floor.

_I'm coming, Blaze! Just hold on!_

_Hurry,_ he said weakly.

Nurélia found him shaking uncontrollably on the floor. His breathing was labored and spasms took place all over his body. Tears flooded her eyes at the scene. She rushed to his side. Pain like nothing she ever felt was rapidly grasping her heart. There was an empty feeling growing much too quick in the pit of her stomach.

She loaned as much energy as she could to her dear friend to keep him breathing, but because of how far into death's powerful sleep he was, he needed more energy than she thought. With all the energy given to him for his life, she could barely heal his scratches let alone his critical wounds. She felt him loosening his connection with her.

_No! Don't you give up on me, Blaze! _

_I love you, Nurélia,_ he whispered before closing his eyes.

"No!" she screamed. Tears drenched her face. "Open your eyes!" she sobbed. "Do you hear me, Blaze? Stay with me!" She cried into his neck, then whispered, "I can't live without you."

Suddenly, she felt a familiar power emanating from the shadows. It surged through her and Blaze, restoring more than half of their energy. Then a voice she came to know quite well spoke in a language two words she never thought could sound so beautiful.

"Waise heill," Murtagh said. Her gaze fell on the Rider, who had his eyes closed in concentration. He said the spell several more times, and Blaze finally began to breathe much more easily. Nurélia watched as wound after wound healed itself almost instantly.

_Nurélia?_ Blaze said drowsily.

_Yes, I'm here. _She gently touched his snout. _You gave me a huge scare. Don't you ever do that again!_

_I'm sorry._

"How's he doing?" Murtagh asked, coming up behind Nurélia. She faced him.

"He's alive, thanks to you," she said, drying her tears with her sleeve. "How can we ever repay you?"

Murtagh shook his head. "Don't worry about it." Nurélia smiled and threw her arms around his neck. He was shocked at first, and then wrapped his arms around her. He noticed how perfect she fit in them, and how content he felt. They let go and she gave him a quick kiss on his cheek before attending to Blaze again. His heart fluttered madly.

_You've already given me more than you know,_ he said to himself.

* * *

Aha, scared you a bit, didn't I? I was going to stop when Blaze closed his eyes, but I figured that it was a little too cruel. Hope you liked it! 

Review!!

**luva:** As always, thanks so much! Your reviews make my day. :)


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Thanks so much to my 10 reviewers!!! Sorry this took so long to update. I had a lot going on this summer, but anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: See _Prologue_

* * *

_Chapter Thirteen_

Nurélia watched Murtagh leave the dragon hold with an expression she couldn't quite read. She leaned against Blaze, who was now peacefully sleeping, and thought about her 'thank you' kiss to Murtagh. Did he leave so quickly because of it? It seemed like he did. It wasn't even a kiss, really, more like a peck on his cheek. But even so, Nurélia began to second guess her action. Perhaps she went too far? She almost couldn't help herself. When she hugged him, she didn't even expect him to return it. He even brought her closer to him when he wrapped his strong arms around her. She brought her own arms around herself and fell asleep next to Blaze with a smile, remembering the feelings she felt when she imagined his arms around her.

……………

Murtagh lay upon his bed unable to sleep. He kept thinking about the kiss Nurélia gave him. It was only on his cheek, but it still made his heart feel like it was going to jump out of his chest. Then, not knowing what to do, he panicked and left rather quickly. The whole way back to his room confused thoughts rampaged through his head. Did she like him as much as he liked her? Was she trying to show that she liked him with that kiss? Or was he being foolish, and the kiss was only a 'thank you' and nothing more? Perhaps he only wished there was another meaning behind it . . . and oh, how he wished.

Although, maybe he _was_ being foolish. He had already jeopardized her trust in him once before, _and_ he brought her to this horrible place where she and her dragon were forced to swear fealty to a mentally unstable king, who was now making her learn how to fight with a sword – a form of defense that Nurélia flat out told Murtagh she refused to be taught. Not to mention being tortured mercilessly and nearly to their death. Yet he _did_ save her dragon. She could learn to trust him again. Perhaps she already did and it was shown through the kiss? Murtagh shook his head. He had to get that kiss out of his mind.

As dawn fast approached, Murtagh dreaded the morning. He had redirected his thoughts toward what the King will do to him, since he was sure that Galbatorix knew he'd helped Nurélia save Blaze. However, in a way he couldn't help but wonder if the king _knew_ he would help, and that's why he made Shruikan attack Blaze to the point where Nurélia couldn't do anything to save him. It seemed as though he was testing him. A test he knew he failed.

He was startled when a brief knocking interrupted his thoughts, and, looking out his window, saw that the sun had been in the sky for several hours. He glared at the door, then rose from his bed and flung the door open. The servant shrunk back a bit but then stood tall and delivered his message. . . . So the King wanted to see him, surprise, surprise.

Murtagh walked up before the King, kneeled, and bowed his head. "You called for me, master?"

"Yes," Galbatorix replied in his smooth voice. He stared at him with unblinking eyes and waited several minutes before speaking in a slightly harsher tone. "I couldn't help but notice the certain bond you and the new Rider share, Murtagh."

"We've developed a somewhat indifferent acquaintance, if that's what you mean," Murtagh replied coolly, not meeting his eyes.

The King narrowed his eyes and said harshly, "Don't give me that, you insolent boy! I'm not stupid. I can see your affection for her as plain as day; and it was proven last night when you interfered and saved her dragon. I was curious of your delay of bringing her to me when you captured her—"

Murtagh looked up at him then, and the King seemed to understand his inquisitive expression. He sat back in his chair with a sneer on his face.

"Yes. I know all about your deliberate disobedience, Murtagh. I specifically remember ordering you to bring her to me when you found her." Murtagh shifted uneasily and averted his eyes.

"Yes," he began slowly, "and I did bring her to you . . . just not _right after_ I found her."

Galbatorix glowered at him. "I see," he said shortly. "It looks as though I'm going to have to pay closer attention to the orders I give you. First, you let your imprudent brother escape, and then your insubordination led you to develop _feelings_ for some wench."

Murtagh's eyes shot up in a death glare. "She isn't a wench," he said through clenched teeth. Galbatorix seemed to enjoy making the young Rider angry, as he laughed at him with a sneering smile.

"My point is proven."

Murtagh lowered his eyes and said nothing. This only seemed to anger the King.

"It's completely foolish! I demand you to break all contact w—" he stopped suddenly, brought his hand to his small, well-groomed beard and began to stroke it in thought. Before he even spoke, Murtagh knew that what he was about to say was another twisted scheme to get Nurélia or her dragon hurt.

"My interest in this affair," he began smoothly, "has been redirected. I think that it may actually be a good idea for you two to bond." Murtagh looked at him with uncertainty while Galbatorix only stared back. His cold blue eyes were always set in a harsh stare, yet this time, Murtagh caught a tiny glimpse of something else that he couldn't quite make out, yet he knew it wasn't a good sign.

"You will begin her lessons in swordsmanship tomorrow, Murtagh, and she will practice everyday thereafter for at least two hours. Am I clear? She _will_ learn how to master a sword." Murtagh nodded once and took leave. "Oh, and Murtagh," the King began. Murtagh turned around. "Do _not_ take it easy on her. That's an order. She needs to learn . . . and maybe," he added with some amusement in his voice, "you defeating her mercilessly will knock some sense into the both of you."

Murtagh left with his jaw set and the King's cruel laughter resounding in his head.

……………

Nurélia sat by Blaze in the dragon hold, fussing over his condition (though he was now fairly well) and talking to him about her confused feelings toward a certain Rider. A very nervous servant interrupted them, saying that 'his majesty' would like an audience with both of them right away. Nurélia turned to Blaze so the servant wouldn't see her face and rolled her eyes. Blaze smiled in his own peculiar way, which seemed to frighten the servant even more, as the dragon bared his teeth. Nurélia saw this and giggled.

"Thank you," she began in an amused tone. "We do not need an escort so you may go; and you may tell your king that we will be right there."

"Very well, miss," he said, looking relieved. He bowed and then turned to Blaze. All the color almost drained from his face. "Dragon," he said in a shaky voice and bowed. When he left the hold, Nurélia and Blaze burst out laughing.

"Poor thing. He looked like he was about to cry," Nurélia said as they too left the hold.

_Or wet his pants_, Blaze added. Nurélia laughed again.

The King sat upon his throne just like the first time they met him. All the fury Nurélia felt last night for him came back in full. She wanted to kill him, which was a feeling she didn't like having and made her despise him even more. However, she knew she didn't have the power to kill him now, anyway. They'll just have to play by his rules . . . for now. They kneeled before him, which they loathed doing, and waited for him to speak.

"It seems like you're still alive," he said, looking at Blaze.

_Yeah, no thanks to you, you foul excuse for a Rider,_ Nurélia thought to herself cruelly. Blaze didn't say anything.

"It also seems," the King continued, "that you two did not acquire this _miracle_ alone." They both shifted nervously. "I know very well what Murtagh did for you two last night, but I wonder if you noticed that when he healed your dragon, who I know was close to death, the affect of the spell could have killed any normal magic user, yet he wasn't even phased." He paused to let what he said sink in. Nurélia thought back and realized that he was right. Murtagh didn't seem weak at all when she had hugged him. How was that possible?

"I must admit," he continued, "that I knew he would interfere." Nurélia's eyebrows met in confusion. She looked up into his harsh, cold eyes. A small smirk played on his lips. "You seem confused," he replied. "Let me explain. . . . I realized that Murtagh has a closer attachment to you than I would prefer, yet it _has_ led me to use it to my advantage. You see, I had no intention of letting your dragon die, as you are not exactly valuable to me without him. If Murtagh didn't confirm my assumption about him and save your dragon, I would have stepped in."

"But why did you have Shruikan attack Blaze to the point where _I_ couldn't save him?" Nurélia asked with a slightly fierce tone in her voice.

"Ah, now that is the question, isn't it? Why did I? To answer this, we have to go back to what I discussed earlier about Murtagh's ability to heal your dragon without jeopardizing his own life." Nurélia looked at Blaze with an expression that she didn't really care anymore how Murtagh did it. She was tired of being around Galbatorix and his twisted ideas to get what he wanted. Blaze may have not been in danger of dying, but she didn't know that; and she wouldn't ever forgive the King for letting her believe that she almost lost the most important being in her life.

Galbatorix took her looking at Blaze to be a way of communicating her confusion, because he then asked, "Don't you understand?" She turned to him, and he continued with, "The whole ordeal was all part of what I'm about to ask you now." He paused for suspense, but Nurélia just wanted him to ask the question already so she could answer and leave. He looked at her with focused eyes and asked smoothly, "Would you also like to have the power to perform and achieve many almost impossible spells without draining even the slightest bit of energy?"

This caught Nurélia off guard. She figured that he'd ask her something about why she didn't have this power and then punish them again for not giving him a plausible answer. But this, this she'd have to think about. It would be nice, but there had to be a catch. She then asked, "Will you allow Blaze and me a little more time to think about it?"

"A wise answer, yet unnecessary," he replied. "However, I will consent to your request." Nurélia gave him a small smile. "I expect an answer after one hour." Her smile fell into a frown. "I _hope_ it will be the right one."

The two bowed, and then made their way back to the dragon hold.

……………

_Can you believe him?!_ Nurélia thought savagely as soon as they were in Blaze's area in the hold. _'Oh sure, I'll give you some more time to think about your choice.' Yeah, one measly hour for a choice that we don't really have!_

_Calm yourself, little one. It does no good for you to be angry while we try to think about what to do. Besides, do you really need more than an hour if your choices are limited?_

Nurélia sighed. _You're right. I'm sorry. It's just, he makes me so infuriated! I mean, to think he almost let you die for something he could have just told us about makes me want to hurt him in a way that I've never thought about doing to anyone._

_He said that he had no intention for me to die, though,_ Blaze reasoned.

_Oh who cares what he said. He's just lucky Murtagh was there to pick up his mess,_ she said. Blaze kept silent. Nurélia began to calm down a little after mentioning Murtagh. She smiled and then thought aloud, _I wonder how close he thinks Murtagh and I are._

_Why do you ask?_

_Well, he said that we have a closer attachment to each other than he would prefer._

_Maybe he just means that he doesn't want you two to develop a friendship._ Nurélia looked at him skeptically.

You_ don't even believe that, and besides, we're already friends. I think he might mean a relationship closer than that,_ she said. _And_ _I think he somehow knows my feelings for Murtagh._

_And maybe Murtagh's feelings for you,_ Blaze added. Nurélia smiled at him.

_Maybe . . . So, what are we going to do?_

Blaze sighed. _There's really only one thing we can do._

Nurélia bit the inside of her lip and nodded. _That's what I was afraid of._

* * *

Yea! Another chapter out! I don't exactly know when the next chapter will be out, but hopefully the wait won't be as long as this one took. :) 

For my anonymous reviewers:

**chris garcia** – Thanks! I'm thinking that Nurélia and Blaze will meet Eragon in either the 16th or 17th chapter. So, soon. :)

**luva** – As always, thank you so much! I'm glad you have your own computer now. That's awesome! Maybe now you can begin your own story, huh:)

**Blaze** – I know you reviewed to chapter 3 but I've already answered the reviews for that chapter, so thank you very much for reviewing! P.S.– Love the name!


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Thanks to my seven reviewers!! I'm getting _a little_ better at my updates; only took three weeks this time. Yea!

Disclaimer: See _Prologue_

* * *

_Chapter Fourteen_

Galbatorix smirked as Nurélia and Blaze walked into the throne room an hour after they left it. Nurélia's jaw was set, saying quite plainly that she did not like this one bit. Blaze only stared ahead, as though indifferent to the situation. The two bowed quickly and then waited for the King to speak.

"I assume you've made up your minds," he said. His smirk grew when he saw the fire glowing in the young girl's eyes. She nodded her head once in answer.

"I hope," he continued, "for my own sake of losing two valuable assets, of course, that your response is to my liking."

Nurélia took a deep breath. "Before we give you our answer, we would like to know what this power is exactly, and how you intend to bestow such power into us."

The King's eyes narrowed and he spoke in a low voice. "What makes you think you have the right to ask?"

Nurélia struggled not to glare right back. "We only wanted to know what we would be getting into."

"I see…. Well, I suppose there really is no harm in telling you now, because if you don't accept, there really would be no need in having you around. If you ever do meet Eragon and his dragon, I don't care how much training or power you claim to possess now, they'll eventually kill you both, and then where would that leave me? Back to where I started…. You understand my predicament." The question was said as a statement, but Nurélia answered by nodding her head, anyway. Galbatorix leaned back in his throne and was silent for several minutes before beginning the explanation for his power.

"Have you ever heard of the Vault of Souls?" he asked. Nurélia thought back to her readings.

"We've heard of its name, but that is all," she replied.

"It is exactly what it sounds like," he explained. "A vault containing souls."

"I don't understand the connection."

"Well you wouldn't, would you?" he shot back cruelly. "Which is why _I_ am the intelligence behind this and _you_ are the incompetent pupil. Now shall I continue, or are you going to interrupt me every five seconds?" Nurélia tightened her lips. "That's better…. As I was saying, the Vault contains the souls of the victims that four of my faithful servants collected for me, while also guarding the Vault's location, before they were killed. Thankfully though, my Vault has yet to be discovered by my enemies. You see, every soul has a certain amount of power and, with the right incantation, that power is mine, Murtagh's . . . and yours, _if_ you accept."

"The souls are trapped?" she asked, horrified.

"Yes," he replied indifferently. There was an awkward silence for several minutes, and then the King said menacingly, "I will not wait any longer! What is your answer? Power, or death?"

_Blaze?_

_Go ahead,_ he answered with a sigh.

Nurélia glared at the floor. "We have decided… to accept your offer," she said in a defeated tone.

"Excellent. Now listen, you only get one chance at this." Galbatorix leaned forward. "Do you understand? _One_ chance."

"Yes, master."

_Yes, master._

He leaned back in his throne again. "Be sure to remember. . . . To obtain the power of the souls, you will have to put the hand with your gedwëy ignasia-" He pointed at Nurélia. "-and one of your paws-" He gestured to Blaze. "-on the vault together and then say the incantation at the same time to where the souls can hear you both. Otherwise, it won't work because the souls would kill you if you get it wrong, and then the whole trip will be all for nothing.

"The Vault is located in a place not far from Urû'baen, yet far enough to where we will have to ride there. We will take our dragons, for the journey is equivalent to five days on horseback, and I don't have that time to waste. Dragons will get us there and back in a day," he said. Then he added, "We leave tomorrow at dawn."

Blaze and Nurélia bowed and left the throne room deep in discussion with each other.

_I really don't like the sound of this, Blaze,_ Nurélia said in her native language so that anyone who overhears won't know what was being said.

_I don't either, but we don't exactly have a choice,_ replied her dragon.

_You think we could run for it?_

_What about the whole purpose of coming here? My brethren are still under his control, and one may never even know his Rider._

_Oh, you're right. Okay, so running is out of the question. Perhaps there's a way to loophole our way out of this?_

_I don't think so, Ré. He said that your hand with the gedwëy ignasia and one of my paws have to touch the vault _at the same time _and then we are to speak the incantation _aloud_…well, _you_ speak it aloud, I project my thoughts out for everyone to hear. Either approach seems unavoidable for a loophole._

Nurélia swore, making Blaze wince in disapproval.

_Nurélia, please don't. You know how I feel about that sort of foul language._

_Sorry. I really don't like it either. He just brings it out in me. I'll try to watch what I say._

_Thank you._

Nurélia breathed in deep and exhaled slowly to calm herself. _Well, I suppose we'd better pack._

... ... ... ... ...

The next morning, Nurélia sleepily walked down to the dragon hold. She saddled Blaze and waited patiently for Galbatorix to arrive. She glanced over at Shruikan and noticed that he was already saddled and ready to go. A moment later, she saw the King walking down the hallway. It was the first time for her seeing him without his crown and regal clothing. Instead, he wore black boots, leggings, and tunic, making his crest on the front of his tunic stand out significantly. A black satin cloak was around his shoulders. His ensemble made him seem younger, in his forties, and it still amazed her how young he looked for a man well over one hundred.

"Punctuality," he said, looking at them. "Good." Nurélia watched as he levitated himself into the saddle of his mountainous dragon. She then mounted Blaze with the help of his foreleg. "Follow us, and don't try anything foolish. I would hate to kill you." The thunderous sound of Shruikan's gigantic wings was deafening. Nurélia had to put her hands over her ears. Once they were off the ground, Blaze followed suit; though he had to pump his wings a bit faster than Shruikan just to keep up. They trailed the flying black mountain and his Rider with the rising sun at their backs.

_Where do you think we're going, Blaze?_ she asked.

_Well, if I remember the map correctly, I believe we're heading in the direction of Dras-Leona and Helgrind,_ he replied.

_Helgrind . . . Four loyal servants . . . Blaze! Do you think he meant the Ra'zac and their parents as his loyal servants, and the Vault of Souls is in Helgrind?_

_It's possible._

Around midmorning, Nurélia watched as a black mountain of bare rock with four sharp spires atop four tall towers came into view. The fourth tower was smaller than the other three of the same height. Shruikan landed at its base, while Galbatorix levitated himself out of his saddle. Blaze landed next to them, but when Nurélia prepared to dismount, the King stopped her.

"No, don't. You need your dragon. Shruikan is too big to fit where we are going. He'll wait out here." With that, he levitated himself up to the middle of the eastern tower and disappeared through the rock wall.

"What the—"

_Nurélia,_ Blaze warned. _Language._

_Right. Sorry. How did he do that?_

_Only one way to find out,_ he said as he flew to the thick tower. As the wall came closer and closer, Nurélia couldn't help but close her eyes and cringe a little. When she opened them, they were staring into a brightly lit room. Nurélia looked back to realize that the camouflaged entrance was only visible on the outside of the tower. The sun was smiling back at her awed expression.

_He may be evil, but he really is clever,_ she told Blaze in her native tongue, just in case.

_Yes, and that is a very bad combination,_ he replied.

Nurélia agreed and then focused her attention on Galbatorix, who stood in front of a solid stone wall that seemed as though it separated the large room. She also noticed that there were no stairs leading up here. One would have to fly to reach the place. When the King stood aside, she saw a circular, crystalline window, measuring two feet in size, and four feet from the ground.

"This," he began, gesturing to the light blue tinted window, "is where you place your hand and paw."

They both stepped forward. Nurélia took note of the several feet Blaze still had from his head to the ceiling and thought that he could probably extend his wings without touching either wall. She couldn't even imagine how many souls were trapped behind the stone wall they now faced. The window, Nurélia realized, was only tinted blue from the many blue orbs of light glowing on the other side of it. She was amazed at how many of the fist-sized orbs there really were. The entire room was literally brimming with them.

"The incantation I'm about to tell you must be said word for word, at exactly the same time by both of you, while you each have a hand or paw on the porthole," he lectured. He then gave them the saying.

They practiced it several times before feeling ready to state it for real. Nurélia placed her left hand on the window first, and then Blaze put his massive right paw over hers, covering her hand and the window. He was very careful not to crush her hand, while still pressing up against the window enough for the spell to work.

"Are you ready?" They nodded their heads. He smirked. "Wait until I leave to say it. Only the two who are accepting the power are allowed to be in here, but I _will_ know if you possess it or not, so I wouldn't try anything if I were you." He made to leave and then called over his shoulder, "Oh, and don't worry. It only hurts for the first couple of minutes." Then he left with his laughter resounding off the walls of the room.

"I _really_ despise him."

_Yes. He does have those certain qualities to loathe._

Nurélia smiled at her dragon, but then looking back at the window, she sighed. "Well, I guess we had better get this over with. Are you ready?"

_I suppose._ They looked into each other's eyes – well, Nurélia looked into Blaze's right eye – and said simultaneously:

"_Souls of power, relinquish thy force into our own and remain within until released from containment_."

Suddenly, Blaze gave an almighty roar while Nurélia screamed as a familiar pain they had only experienced once before in their life, when Blaze and she connected for the first time, surged through their entire bodies. She tried to remove her hand from the window, but to no avail. It was as though her hand and Blaze's paw had joined with the window – no, the _porthole_, for it was now an opening for the souls to travel through. Nurélia lost track of time as the minutes dragged on. At long last, their agony came to an end as the porthole quickly turned into the window once again. Blaze dropped his paw, while Nurélia crumpled against the wall.

After several minutes passed by, Nurélia regained her strength. In fact, she felt more powerful than ever, yet it came with a price. A massive amount of spirits whispered across her consciousness.

"This feels so strange. I'm used to you, but all of these people are just too much. It's giving me a headache."

_I know what you mean. How do the others live like this?_

"We'll have to ask," Nurélia said, rubbing her temples to try and relieve some of the pain. It wasn't helping. "Perhaps we can block them out?"

_We can try._ Blaze and she pulled together their strength and forced a wall up around their two minds. They sighed in content as the whispers subsided.

"That was a lot easier than I thought it was going to be," Nurélia commented, surprised.

_Yes. Well, we are a little stronger than before._ Nurélia smiled at him, picking up on the sarcasm.

"Yeah, but only _a little_ right?" He laughed softly. "I suppose we should meet back with our _master_," she said with disdain.

_If we must._ She mounted him and Blaze dove into the air, only opening his wings when they were very near to the ground. Nurélia screamed the whole way, clinging desperately to the saddle. Once she regained her composure, she punched him square between his shoulders.

_Hey! That could have hurt,_ he said, amused.

_I trust you, but that was testing it,_ she spat, rubbing her now bruised fist. Blaze laughed.

_I'm sorry. I had to experiment at least a little, don't you think?_

_Next time, experiment on your own._ He laughed again while Nurélia glowered at the back of his head as they flew to Galbatorix's side. The King was waiting for them with his usual stern demeanor.

"Now that you know my secret," he began. "I need you both to swear in the Ancient Language that you will never tell a single soul about it." Once they did, he gave them a sinister grin and levitated himself into his saddle. "And now, we return home." Shruikan leapt in the air, spread his enormous wings, and took off in the direction they came.

_Home for you,_ Nurélia said to herself. She thought back to her mother, father and grandmother.

_We'll be with them again,_ Blaze said, reassuringly. Nurélia nodded her head.

_Soon, hopefully._

Before long, Nurélia and Blaze found themselves back in the dark city of Urû'baen. They landed in the dragon hold as Galbatorix's feet touched the ground. The saddle magically unhooked itself from Shruikan and the massive black dragon hid himself in his cave.

"You will meet with Murtagh tomorrow morning to practice your swordsmanship," the King said suddenly. Nurélia grit her teeth.

"Yes, master." He left soon after and Nurélia dismounted.

_Can you believe him?_ she said as she removed Blaze's saddle. _The nerve!_

_If you're so set on not learning, then don't._ Nurélia pondered this for a moment.

_Brilliant! I'll just refuse to be taught._ She smiled and kissed him on the tip of his nose. Then, she bid him goodnight and retired to her room exhausted by the day's events. She didn't even change before falling asleep as soon as she lay down.

* * *

Yea! Chapter Fourteen out! Hope you liked it!

Oh, and by the way, I borrowed the reason for Galbatorix's power from a website about theories for Book III. I read it and it made perfect sense, especially when I reread a line on page 640 in Eldest when Eragon and Saphira try to assault Murtagh's mind before they knew it was him. The line reads: "The consciousness of the Rider felt strange to Eragon, as if it contained multitudes; scores of distinct voices whispered in the caverns of his mind, like imprisoned spirits begging for release." Crazy, right?

Review please!

For my anonymous reviewer:

**Bangirlflute**: Thank you! And yes, his mind is very twisted indeed. :)


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Thanks so much to my eight reviewers! I really loved writing this chapter (hence it being out a lot earlier than a usual update from me). You'll soon find out why with my being a hopeless romantic and all. But I've said too much already. Read it. It was a lot of fun to write. :)

Disclaimer: See _Prologue_

* * *

_Chapter Fifteen_

The next morning, Nurélia awoke to the whispers of the souls she and Blaze had unfortunately let into their minds. She groaned and put her wall back up. It must have slipped when she was sleeping since she was not used to having to guard her mind from beings that were now apart of her as Blaze was. Then she thought of something that made her blood run cold.

_Blaze?_ He answered her sleepily. _Oh, I'm sorry. Were you still sleeping?_

_Not anymore. What's wrong?_

_I just wanted your opinion on something. _

_It doesn't sound that simple. Something's bothering you._

_Yes. . . The souls are connected to us as we are to each other, right? _

_I believe so._

_Then__ w__hen __the souls are__ free from their imprisonment, t__he separation__ will hurt__ us__ as much __as it would if I were to lose you,__ or vise versa? _Blaze gave a heavy sigh.

_It is very probable._ Nurélia fell silent. _We are still planning to release them, are we not?_

_Yes, of course we are. I only hope we're strong enough._

_As do I, little one. As do I._

Nurélia decided to take a bath instead of her usual quick wash, hoping the water would rinse away that morning's troubling thoughts. Nonetheless, as the silence of the room consumed her, she grew bored and had much difficulty thinking about anything else _but_ this morning's conversation. She emerged from the water and wrapped a towel around her, wondering what she should wear for her scheduled sparring lesson with Murtagh. Once the thought of him and her alone together seeped into her mind, it made all other thoughts vanish. She chose a light green tunic and cream-colored leggings, knowing that the tunic would bring out the green in her eyes and perhaps distract Murtagh enough to where he wouldn't notice that she wasn't fighting back. She twisted her hair in one long braid and headed to the sparring field.

She found Murtagh waiting for her with a pensive expression. His eyes were downcast, staring at something, or perhaps nothing. She was only a couple yards away when he finally noticed her. His eyes connected with hers and they both smiled.

"What were you thinking about?" Nurélia asked curiously.

"The best way to teach you without hurting you too much." His brief reply took her by surprise. He must have noticed, because he added, "Galbatorix has ordered me not to take it easy on you. He's says it's the only way you'll learn." He looked like he was going to add something else, but changed his mind. Nurélia thought about what the King's order would mean.

_Are you still going to refuse to learn?_ Blaze asked. Nurélia's eyes were defiant.

_Yep._

Blaze chuckled. _Have fun._

She smiled, turning to Murtagh. "So, shall we get started?"

"Ha! You seem way too eager." He eyed her suspiciously. "No magic allowed."

Nurélia laughed, thinking back to the sword she enchanted for Murtagh to fight instead of herself. "Aw, why not? That wasn't fun for you? Because _I_ thought it was very entertaining."

"I'm sure it was," he said, not amused. She smiled to herself. "Grab a sword." He held out two identical wooden swords. She took one and he took his stance. She only stood there. "Well, go on. Take your stance."

"I don't really have one, remember? Maybe you should show me a couple," she answered, smiling mischievously.

"Okay. Well there's this one," he said, getting into a position. Nurélia made to imitate it.

"Like this?"

"No, you have to bend your knees more. Now that's too far. There that's good. Only you should raise your sword a bit more. A bit more. A bit more. Look, like this," he said, getting into the pose again. Nurélia relaxed her arms.

"I'm not getting this," she complained. He walked over to her.

"It isn't that hard. You're putting too much thought into it. Show me the stance." Nurélia posed. "Bend your knees more. More. Ah, here," he said as he stepped up behind her and grabbed her waist. Nurélia let him pull her down until her knees were bended the way he wanted, while a smile spread upon her lips.

"Good. Now bring your arm up more." He held her arm to raise it. "And now your sword." With her hand, he stepped closer behind her and enclosed her fist within his. "That's perfect," he whispered. She could feel his warm breath on her ear and turned toward him a little, looking up into his eyes through the corners of hers. When she first met him, she thought his eyes were black, but after gazing into them so many times, just to see if he'll return her gaze, she realized that they were a deep brown with tiny flecks of red that she knew was from being connected to Thorn. She had noticed that her own eyes, naturally hazel-green, developed tiny flecks of orange in them after having Blaze for a few months, and she imagined that Eragon's would have blue, granted that his eyes weren't blue already. She really had no idea what he looked like, never having met him. She'll have to ask Murtagh sometime. Speaking of . . .

He smiled at her, making her stomach clench. Suddenly his smile disappeared and he let her go, walked to the other side of the sparring circle, and took his stance. She was puzzled why he left her so quickly. The entire reason why she feigned incompetence was so he would be close to her, but it seemed as though he wasn't interested. She took her stance and he immediately advanced. She watched him raise his sword to hit her shin and jumped high. The sword grazed just under her toes, but then he swung around the exact moment her feet touched the ground, aiming for her other shin. She jumped again, although not high enough, because the sword nicked her foot. She had to land on the foot that wasn't injured. He then knocked her sword out of her hand and pointed his own at her throat.

"Well that was incredibly pathetic," said a deep, smooth voice Nurélia recognized. She turned to see Galbatorix standing in his usual regal clothing and crown. Why didn't she sense him before? That was odd. She now realized the reason for Murtagh's sudden indifference. He must have sensed him coming and didn't want the King to see them as they were.

"For being part elf," Galbatorix continued, "your swordsmanship skills are extremely disgraceful. You didn't even use the sword. I figured that after letting you share my power, you would at least be a little better than the last time I saw you spar, yet it seems as though you've gotten worse." He gnashed his teeth together, and suddenly focused on Murtagh. "I want a full report after every lesson."

"Yes, master." The King glared at Nurélia and then left.

When he was out of sight, Murtagh turned to Nurélia. "You and Blaze share our power?"

"We traveled there yesterday."

"Oh," he said troubled. "Nurélia, I – I'm sorry. You weren't supposed – I didn't expect – " Nurélia held up her hand.

"What's done is done. There's nothing we can do about it now. We need to go over our plan." Murtagh nodded.

After he defeated her countless more times with him becoming frustrated that she refused to use her sword unless absolutely necessary, he finally called the lesson to an end. Nurélia healed herself from the many bruises and cuts from the last row, and stayed on the ground, panting. All she did the entire time was try to dodge each swing Murtagh threw at her, always staying inside the circle unless she was hit off balance.

Murtagh picked up the sword from her side and whispered in her ear, "Meet me in my quarters at midnight to go over our plans."

Around midnight Nurélia knocked softly on Murtagh's door. He ushered her in quickly and whispered the spell to make their conversation unheard by unwanted ears. They talked well into the night until both were satisfied with each tiny detail. It was dawn when Nurélia finally left his room and headed to her own. Despite the hour and lack of sleep, Nurélia felt restless as she went over their plans in her head, eager to put them into action.

……………

As the week passed by, Nurélia's lessons in swordsmanship continued, though it seemed as though she was getting worse than better.

"I hate doing this to you," Murtagh said softly one day when she collapsed under a particularly hard blow. Nurélia grimaced with pain and held the side he hit. "You can be better than this. I know you can. You just won't."

"I'm not … going to fight … because he says I should," she answered with difficulty but in a strong voice. "It isn't part … of who I am."

"Well, at least _try_ to defend yourself. I – I can't stand you like this." He kneeled by her and put a hand on her side. "Waíse heill." She began to breathe easier and even gave him a small smile.

"I can do that myself, you know," she said gently. She put her hand on his, which he just then realized was still on her side, and moved his hand to his knee. The soft touch sent goose-bumps up his arm. He smiled and then took a deep breath. It was now or never.

"Nurélia, I need to tell you something," he said, surprised at how steady his voice sounded while his insides squirmed. She looked up at him with her unique hazel-green eyes, noting the tiny flecks of orange.

"What is it?" she whispered with a playful smile, resting her hand on his arm and making his heart leap to his throat. He swallowed hard as though trying to set his heart back in its place.

"I uh, well…" he began much more uneasily.

"Yes?" Her eyes were full of curiosity and wonder. Murtagh took a deep breath.

"For a while now, I've felt certain feelings about…well, about…" Nurélia's eyes seemed brighter, and she gave his arm a gentle squeeze. Murtagh shifted his gaze, panicking. "About our plans for the egg. I don't think they're solid enough," he finished lamely. _Coward,_ he thought to himself. She withdrew her hand. He glanced back to her, noting the slight disappointment in her expression before she hid it behind a smile.

"Okay," she said, and then brought her head closer to his, whispering in an amused tone, "We can meet in my quarters at midnight tonight to 'solidify' our plans."

He wasn't paying attention to her words, however, and completely missed her poking fun at him. She was so close to him. Too close. He gazed at her lips and slightly tilted his head toward her, parting his mouth a little as though to speak but changed his mind. She watched him without stirring, almost like she was waiting for him, but he didn't move any further. She smiled and rose from the floor. He was too late.

"So," she began while readying herself for another fight, "ready to defeat me again?" She gave him a huge grin, showing most of her teeth and laughed, which made his heart race.

He put his weight on the tip of his sword to push himself up, returned the smile and replied, "Are you?"

She laughed again. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Perhaps you should try this time," he suggested.

Her eyes brightened as a mischievous smile spread across her lips. "Never!"

Murtagh shook his head. "Have it your way, then," he said and advanced toward her.

……………

Back in her quarters, Nurélia thought about what Murtagh was trying to say as she dressed in her night shirt and pants. By the way he was going on she was wishfully thinking he was going to tell her that he returned the feelings she had for him. Then she had the impression that he was about to kiss her, but she was wrong about that as well. She couldn't believe he was making all that fuss over their plans for the egg.

A little after midnight, Nurélia heard a soft knock at her door. She grabbed her blue silk robe, securing the sash around her waist, and opened the door. As she expected, Murtagh came through. He gave her a small smile and sat in a chair by the window. Once Nurélia closed the door, he said the spell so that their conversation remained secret and then plunged right into why he was there.

"Okay, now I know that our plans seem flawless, but I just wanted to go over them one more time," he said.

"Wow. You don't waste any time, do you?" she asked playfully. "Not even a 'hello' before blurting out your purpose of being here."

"I guess I'm just eager to get started."

"Or perhaps you have someone waiting for you back in your room and need to hurry this up so that you can play," she teased. Murtagh looked horrified.

"What? No! I don't have anyone waiting for me. I can't believe you of all people would suggest that—"

"Me of all people? What is that supposed to mean?" she asked. Her voice wasn't laughing anymore but it wasn't angry either. She was only curious.

"I just meant that you seem to know me better than that."

"I do," was her simple answer. "_You_ need to learn not to take teasing so seriously."

"Oh. Sorry," he said awkwardly.

"And besides, I didn't mean a girl for hire. You could have a girl I don't know about."

Murtagh gazed at her. His eyes were so deep that she always felt lost looking in them. "Well, actually," he began, "there is this one girl that makes my heart race every time she smiles."

Nurélia's breath caught in her chest, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. She quickly pretended to be interested in an invisible piece of fuzz on her robe so he wouldn't see her blush and adopted an amused tone.

"Really?" she began, feeling her cheeks begin to cool a little, "Does she smile often? Because I don't think that's good for your heart—" She gasped, looking up at him. "Maybe that's her plan!"

"What?" asked Murtagh in a skeptical tone.

"Yeah!" she continued animatedly. "Don't you see? She knows that her smiles are lethal to you, and so she purposely smiles to where one day, if you continue to be around her, she'll kill you," she finished simply. Then she added in a mock-somber tone, "Death by smiles. Tragic."

"Oh sure, _you_ can laugh. _You_ aren't the one miserable, not knowing if you'll ever have the courage to tell her how you feel."

"Miserable, huh? That's too bad. So who is this girl to make a powerful Rider cower?" she asked. She couldn't believe how well she was hiding her own feelings through her teasing. She watched Murtagh swallow hard and glance at her while she waited anxiously for his answer, though she hoped her anxiety didn't show through. She'd been told that her eyes were very expressive.

"Well, she lives here at the castle as well," he said. She held her breath. "But I don't think you've ever seen her before," he stammered. Her shoulders dropped.

"Oh," she said, noting the disappointment in her voice and tried to disregard the feeling by acting interested. "What's her name?" Murtagh seemed puzzled.

"Her name?"

Nurélia raised an eyebrow. "You don't know her name?"

"Of course I know her name, but… I don't want to reveal it yet."

"Oh. Okay. . . What is she like?"

Murtagh looked pensive. "Well, she's very stubborn, especially when someone is forcing her to do something, but I admire her spirit."

Nurélia thought for a question to make it seem like she was still interested, even though the thought of this other person was tearing at her heart. "You said she lives at the castle?" Murtagh nodded his head. "Does her family live here, too?"

"No. They live somewhere quite a bit farther."

"Any siblings?"

"She's an only child."

_Wait a minute_. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously for a second. "How did she come to be here, under Galbatorix?"

"She was brought here."

"By whom?"

"By me," he replied smiling.

Nurélia bit her lip in thought. Her family lives somewhere else; she's an only child; she was brought here by him. Could he actually be talking about her? It was almost too good to be true. If this mysterious girl really did turn out to be herself, then she had one more question she wanted to know. "Is she pretty?" she asked.

Murtagh gazed into her eyes. "She's beautiful, and she has the most amazing eyes." Nurélia smiled, feeling her cheeks grow warm again.

"But she has no idea how I feel about her. Every time I try to tell her, I freeze up, or panic and tell her something completely different."

"Sounds to me like you need another way of telling her how you feel," she said simply. His expression faltered slightly, as though he was unsure of what she meant.

"What do you suggest?"

She decided to take a chance and answered, "Perhaps if you told her of your feelings by pretending to be talking about someone else, it may come easier for you." He shifted his gaze downward and slightly nodded his head. She then knew she guessed right – and he knew that she realized he _was_ talking about her. When he looked back up, he was smiling, making her heart leap.

"Maybe if I had a hint that she liked me as well, I wouldn't have felt so nervous," he said, slowly moving toward her. Her pulse quickened.

"Maybe she's given you plenty, but you're too daft to recognize them."

"Oh? Then what, would you say, would be some of the hints she has probably given me?" He had almost completely lessened the gap between them. Her heart felt as though it was beating in her throat. She looked up into his eyes and somehow found her voice.

"How about flashing smiles only in your direction, or having you help her with a simple sparring stance just to have you close by her, or maybe even giving you a kiss on your cheek to thank you for helping her save her dragon," she answered softly since he was now only inches away from her. "Those might be a couple of examples."

"You know, I do recall most of those hints you mentioned," he said. "I apologize for being so daft." He reached up for her chin and tenderly brushed his thumb against her cheek. Nurélia smiled, though her stomach was flipping every which way.

"You are well on your way in becoming forgiven."

"Yeah? Maybe this will help," he said, moving closer, while she felt herself stop breathing. She closed her eyes and felt him kiss her – on the cheek. She silently exhaled and looked up, a little disappointed. He gazed deeply into her eyes. "Well?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "It's a start, I guess," she said, turning away. "Not really worth—"

Her sentence was cut short as Murtagh unexpectedly turned her face to his, making her lips meet his own. She closed her eyes and savored their taste. They were warm, a little salty, and delicious. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to her as he deepened the kiss. Soon after, she felt his hand untie the sash around her robe, but she lightly slapped the hand away and then felt him smile through the kiss. She playfully pushed him from her; both were breathing more heavily than normal.

"What?" he asked with a wide smile.

"You know what," she answered. She struggled to keep her lips in a scowl while her eyes laughed.

"I didn't do anything," he said innocently.

"Uh huh. So my robe untied itself?" He shrugged.

"It must have. That's strange. Here," he said, stepping toward her and grabbing the loose sash. "Let me tie it back up for you." He pulled her closer and then kissed her smiling lips.

"All right, you," she said, putting her hand on his chest to keep him at bay. "Did you really feel like we needed to go over our plans?"

Murtagh's eyes shifted while he said, "Um… no."

"That's what I thought." She dropped her hand from his chest to tie her sash. He gazed at her figure longingly, which she caught.

"I think it might be time for us to go to sleep," she suggested.

"Good idea," he said, going to her bed.

"In our own rooms, Murtagh." She couldn't help but smile.

"I was only teasing. Maybe you should learn to take it less seriously." He walked by her and through her door. Nurélia bit her bottom lip and smiled again. It was as though all she could do was smile anymore.

"Goodnight," she called after him and closed her door. A moment later, she heard a faint knocking and opened the door to find Murtagh. She gave him a confused expression.

Murtagh grinned. "I forgot something," he said simply. Then he leaned in and kissed her. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." She laughed softly as he headed back to his room.

* * *

Yea! They're finally together! I hope I wrote this all right. What do you guys think? 

Review, please!!

For my anonymous reviewer:

**Bandgirlflute:** Thank you so much! And to tell you the truth, neither did I. I borrowed it from a website of theories for Book III. I forgot to put that in my chapter earlier, but it's now there. :)


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Thanks to my eight reviewers! You guys are awesome!

A/N: There will be waay too many chapters in my story for me to keep writing them only about 3000 words, so my chapters will now be a _little_ longer than that. This one is special, being a little over 6000 words. I hope you all don't mind. I just couldn't find a good place to stop and I wanted to keep the ending I have, so it's a great deal longer than I expected. Perhaps it's too long? You guys decide.

Well, enjoy the chapter anyway!

Disclaimer: See _Prologue

* * *

_

_Chapter Sixteen_

Murtagh woke early the next morning feeling elated. He couldn't believe his luck - and stupidity. If he had only paid attention to her actions more, Nurélia and he would probably already be together. It was okay, though. They had more than enough time to make it up . . . or so he thought.

A brief knocking interrupted his thoughts, and he leapt off the bed, hoping it was a certain girl. It wasn't. The young servant kept his eyes lowered. "Sorry to bother you so early, my lord, but his majesty needs to speak with you right away," he squeaked. "He is in his study, my lord."

Murtagh sighed. "Oh, very well. You may tell him that I'll follow shortly." The boy bowed and took off down the hallway. Murtagh dressed and was on his way to the King's study but then paused to glance back toward Nurélia's room. He smiled to himself. Not even a summons from Galbatorix could alter his high spirits. Before long, he was knocking on the door of the King's study.

"Enter."

Murtagh pushed his way through the door, careful to conceal his smile from the dark King, which proved futile since Galbatorix kept his head down anyway, poring over some documents spread out across his desk.

Murtagh bowed. "You wanted to see me, sire?"

"Yes. How is the girl doing in her lessons?" he asked, not looking up once from the papers.

"Haven't you been receiving my reports?"

"Yes, but they all say the same thing." He picked up a quill and began writing different marks on the documents in front of him. "I'm tired of reading the same thing with each new report, Murtagh," he said in a warning tone. "I want to hear something new from you, something that hasn't been in your insanely undersized notes."

"Well, she struggles, sire. I don't know what else I can do. I've tried teaching her new moves and how to block properly, but because I haven't the time before I attack—"

"Please bore someone else with your excuses," Galbatorix said suddenly and with an uninterested tone. He finally looked up from the table. The King's cold, blue eyes penetrated straight into Murtagh's brown ones, making him feel increasingly uncomfortable. "You have one week, Murtagh, before I send you two out searching for your pathetic brother and his dragon, but I will not send her out there without the ability to at least prove halfway decent with a sword. . . . One week. And if she _still_ doesn't show any improvement, you and Thorn will go alone, which won't please me. Understand?"

"Yes, sire."

"Good. You're excused." He went back to his writing.

Murtagh lingered a second, thinking quickly. "Pardon me, sire, if I may speak?" His voice sounded strong, but inside, his stomach squirmed with trepidation. Galbatorix inclined his head for him to continue. "Perhaps if you withdrew your command of me not taking it easy on her, I could teach her properly."

The King's quill stopped short. His jaw clenched. Then he sighed and put down the quill. Murtagh swallowed hard, trying not to let his panic show as he met the harsh stare of the King.

"Do you know how I learned the sword, Murtagh?" he asked. His voice sounded like he was struggling to keep his rage at bay.

Murtagh was about to shake his head but thought better of it. Galbatorix preferred a solid answer. "No, sire."

"My training was very similar to how I'm having you teach the girl. I was ten years old and fought against an elf. He had no mercy for me, but I learned just as well."

"I'm sure it didn't take you long to master it though, right sire?"

"Don't brownnose, Murtagh," he replied viciously. "It just makes me even more upset with you. I don't think you realize the thin strand of thread you're on right now. You and that girl. She's been a pain in my side since you brought her here." Galbatorix narrowed his eyes and said in a menacing tone, "That better change _very_ soon."

"Yes, sire."

"Now I have some important work to finish. Show yourself out."

Murtagh bowed and left the room cursing to himself. If Nurélia didn't learn the sword soon, Galbatorix will take the matter into his own hands, and Murtagh couldn't bear to think what else the King would do her.

… … … … …

Nurélia woke from a blissful sleep to the soft knocking on her door. She closed her eyes for a second longer, thinking about the night before, and a smile crept upon her lips. After a second knocking, she tossed her covers aside and put on her robe.

"Come in," she almost sang. A silver tray came through the door followed by a smiling Ciarra. "Good morning, Ciarra!"

"Good morning, miss! You sound like you're in a good mood," the girl said, setting the tray on the table by the window and taking her usual seat.

"Yes, well I had good dreams last night, and it's a nice day," Nurélia added, gazing at the bright, cloudless sky. Ciarra lifted the lid and placed Nurélia's bowl of fruit in front of her. She bit into a strawberry and savored its sweet juice, while Ciarra hungrily ate the goopy porridge. They were about halfway through their meal when another knocking sounded from the door. Ciarra quickly rose from her seat and stood by the table, as though she was only there to look after Nurélia as the Rider ate and nothing more. She was so quick that she looked a little spastic. Nurélia gave her a peculiar look, almost to point of laughing, and then rose from her chair to answer the door.

Murtagh was smiling on the other side. He leaned to kiss her but she moved away to invite him in instead. He looked a little hurt, but when he followed her gaze to the servant girl by the table he soon understood. His smile came back and he gladly entered her room. Once she closed her door, she turned to Ciarra.

"Go ahead and finish your breakfast, Ciarra. Murtagh won't say anything." The girl appeared hesitant at first but with an encouraging nod from Murtagh she finally sat back down.

"Feeding the servants now, are we?" Murtagh teased.

"No one else seems to," she replied with a shrug of one shoulder. He smiled at her and she noticed that his arms twitched slightly, as though itching to hold her in them.

He glanced at Ciarra, who he could tell was trying to make herself invisible as servants only could. He thought of something to make his visit more formal instead of what it really was and said to Nurélia, "Well, I came here because I have something of importance to tell you, but I can wait until you're finished."

Ciarra spoke, barely above a whisper, "Begging your pardon, sir, I'm sorry if I'm the reason you have to wait. I'll try to hurry."

"Nonsense," he replied. "You don't have to hurry."

"Thank you, sir."

Nurélia smiled at him. His eyes met hers and it was taking everything she had not to kiss him. Ciarra seemed trustworthy enough, but she could accidently let something slip, or someone could find out through her mind. They were just going to have to wait. Nurélia took up her seat and continued to finish her breakfast. A short while later, Ciarra piled the dishes on the tray and took her leave.

"Now then," Nurélia said as she closed the door after the girl. "What did you have to tell me?"

"This," Murtagh replied, pulling her to him and kissing her. She laughed and returned his kiss.

"I need to dress for my lesson, Murtagh," she said softly. He nodded, seeming reluctant to pull away.

"You need to be careful," he said suddenly. "Galbatorix is planning something. He won't tell me what it is."

"Okay. I'll be careful." She smiled and he kissed her again.

"I'm going to head down to the field."

… … … … …

"Why is it incredibly difficult for you to learn this basic skill?" Galbatorix fumed with anger as he witnessed the morning's lesson. "I can't imagine that your mentality is so insignificant that you cannot grasp the simple concept of blocking the advancing stick with the one you hold in your hand!" His eyes burned with rage, and he had to pause for a moment to regain his composure. When he returned his gaze to her, the fire was gone from his eyes, yet she could still feel the heat radiating from him. "So," he continued in his oily voice, "I've been pondering the fact that you _could_ be over thinking the whole thing, but then I would be wrong, wouldn't I?"

Nurélia gave him an expression saying plainly that she had no idea what he was talking about. He tightened his lips, making a very thin line across his mouth. Then, with a flick of his wrist, she was thrust forward and held inches from his face by her throat. She gasped and struggled for air, all the while glaring into his cold eyes. He smirked at this and released the force around her neck. She dropped to the ground, coughing and holding her throat.

"I grow tired of your rebellions, girl. I _know_ that's why you don't fight properly. I've been inside your head; I know how you think, what you know, and what you're capable of, so don't give me your excuse of 'the sword is too difficult for you'. I know you can learn."

Throughout his speech, she gradually rose from the ground and stood defiantly before him. She responded with, "What if I choose not to?" Immediately she threw up barriers around her mind and body, expecting to be punished and knowing that her barriers wouldn't do much, but they would protect her for a little while.

However, as she gazed boldly into his face, he began to smirk, and his wicked laughter sounded all around her yet he never parted his lips. It sent shivers up her spine. "Haven't we already had this conversation?" he asked. His tone was full of amusement – an emotion she didn't know he could even possess. It was a little unnerving, and especially in this context. "Besides, maybe you'll change your mind."

"I'm sure I won't," she replied scornfully. He looked at her with a sneer, his eyes still as cold as ever.

"We'll see."

A rush of confusion surged through her, but she made sure that the emotion didn't show on her face. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that she wanted to discover what he meant by those two simple words. And then he left them with a swish of his cloak.

Nurélia stared after him. Her entire body shook with rage. Murtagh came up beside her and put his arm around her waist. It calmed her down almost instantly.

"We're stealing the egg tonight," she said suddenly. He squeezed her side and drew her closer.

"Tonight it is."

She smiled to herself. The egg was going to be free by tonight. She could hardly wait.

"But we have a problem, or rather _you_ have a problem," Murtagh said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you see the only reason Galbatorix hasn't sent us out yet is because he wants your skills in swordsmanship to improve before he lets us go anywhere."

"Oh. Yeah, that is a problem."

"Can't you just try a little? That way he'll see your progress and finally send us out so we can carry out our plans." He watched her pensive expression merge with one of reluctance. He tried a different approach. "The egg is what matters, remember?" She bit her lip, which Murtagh knew was a sign of uncertainty and that she was giving in.

"Fine. But I still refuse to become better than a novice level."

Murtagh smiled. "Fair enough."

She looked down at the sword by her feet. "It's been two hours, right?" she asked pleadingly. He chuckled.

"Yeah, I'd say the lesson is over."

"Great. Do you want to take a walk? The gardens aren't much, but they can conceal us for a little while."

"A walk sounds great."

As soon as they were sure no one could see them, they laid upon one of the few patches of green grass, talking and laughing and going over plans.

"I still need to find a green rock or something like it," Nurélia said, thinking about her part of the plan of having their stealing of the egg go undetected while they were still living in the castle.

"I have a pretty good idea of what you can use," Murtagh answered, "That is, if you can manipulate a gem."

"It'll take more time and energy, but I'm sure Blaze and I are up to it."

"Good. Then everything's all set. We'll meet in my room after midnight."

Nurélia smiled and kissed him. "What was your first thought of me?" she asked suddenly. He looked down at her and returned her smile.

"I thought you were the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, as you lay sleeping in my arms with the wind blowing through your soft hair," he said, running his fingers through her hair now. She laid her head on his chest and wrapped an arm around him.

"Blaze and I owe you everything," she whispered.

"No," he replied hugging her close to him. "I owe you for making me into the person I always knew was in me somewhere, deep inside. This place and Galbatorix were very close to crushing this side of my nature out of me for good, but then you came along. You saved me."

"Then I guess we're even." She looked up at him and he kissed her once more before they realized their time together might seem a little suspicious and figured it best to leave.

… … … … …

Midnight came a great deal slower than she imagined. Her stomach squirmed the rest of the day, waiting in anticipation for this moment right now. She breathed in deep as Murtagh and she made their way to the treasure room where the egg was held.

No guards were patrolling the outside as Galbatorix was sure that his new, more powerful defenses around the room would suffice. Plus, he didn't trust any of them with this exceedingly important task anyway. The two Riders made their way down the hall and stopped several feet from the door. They glanced at each other and in silent agreement they both merged forces with their own dragons. Nurélia sat on the floor in a meditative trance, and she and Blaze tried to find a hole in the King's magical defenses. They brushed against Murtagh/Thorn a couple of times, as they were trying to do the same. They searched for however long, she wasn't sure, but after exploring each and every millimeter, one thing was clear: There was not the teeniest hole anywhere.

She looked over at Murtagh, who was watching her with a half smile. "What?" she whispered.

He shook his head. "Nothing," he answered, his smile growing. "Just admiring."

She bit her lip, trying not to smile herself, and forced herself to look serious. "Murtagh, we have to focus."

"Right. I can do that," he said, wiping his smile from his lips and mimicking her serious expression. "See?" She shook her head, smiling.

"Okay, I couldn't find a way in naturally – "

"Yeah, me either."

"So we're going to have to go to Plan B," she said, taking her place on the floor.

"Right. Plan B," he agreed, sitting next to her.

She and Blaze found him and Thorn and they both decided on one place in the middle of the door. They gathered their strength, taking care to keep themselves blocked from the other souls, and then all four repeatedly slammed their forces against the defense.

It didn't even flinch.

Nurélia's face fell. _I wish we can use our new power,_ she thought to Blaze. _I bet we could rip right through in one single blow._

_You know why we can't,_ Blaze replied. _Once we tap into that power, we are immediately connected with Galbatorix and he'll know exactly what we are up to._

_I know. It just bites that we have all this power at our disposal, yet we can't use it. It's very frustrating._

_I know what you mean._

She sighed and turned to Murtagh. "First phase, Plan C?" He nodded his head. They concentrated on the magic, feeling it surge through their blood and down into their gedwëy ignasias. They agreed on the same spot as in Plan B and both began to chant the same spell simultaneously. The defenses started to ebb away slowly but gradually and in another silent agreement, they went to Second phase, Plan C, which combined both the spell and bashing their forces against the barrier. In seconds they smashed a hole big enough for them to pass through one at a time.

Once inside, they heard a static noise behind them and turned around to realize that the defenses were melding themselves back together, trapping them inside. Nurélia was already feeling the effect of the amount of energy it took to go through once. She wasn't sure how she was going to make it through again with even less energy than now, as she still had one more spell to perform.

Murtagh gestured for her to follow him to the center of the room where the brilliant, emerald green egg was peacefully situated on its elegant pedestal. The dark red velvet pillow below it contrasted beautifully with the gemmed shell of the egg. Murtagh tapped her shoulder and held out his hand in front of her. She looked down to see a magnificently cut emerald jewel about half the size of her palm. She focused on the magic and amount of energy needed for this particular spell and then walked over to the egg, memorizing its shape, color, weight, and silver-webbed designs.

Then, spotting two problems with her plan, she wandered around the treasury, searching for two specific pieces of treasure that would work for what she had in mind. Murtagh followed her around the room with his eyes, saying nothing. He figured she knew what she was doing and let her be. She found one of the things she was searching for right away, sticking it in her pocket, and then minutes later, found the other, weighing it in her hands to make sure.

"Murtagh, take off your shirt so I can wrap this in it," she ordered softly.

She watched as confusion flashed in his face before he smiled and replied, "I'd rather have you take your shirt off."

She wasn't at all pleased, and his smile faltered under her intense stare. 'Okay,' he mouthed, taking his shirt off and tossing it to her.

"Thank you," she said, wrapping the object – a small gold figurine four inches in width and ten inches in length – in the black shirt. She couldn't help but glance in his direction every now and then to admire his muscled upper body, and she was sure he knew she was looking because she'd catch his muscles flexed once or twice. It took Blaze yelling at her to pay attention a couple of times for her to focus.

Once the object was wrapped, she returned to stand in front of the egg, placing the object on the floor in front of her. She then took out the other thing she grabbed – a small silver coin – and placed the emerald and coin together in her palm, searching for her magic. The two merged together leaving an emerald jewel swirled with silver in her palm.

Nurélia felt a little light-headed after that and had to rest for a minute or two before picking up the object she set down next to her feet. She held out the emerald swirled with silver in one hand and then placed the gold object now wrapped in black cloth on top of the jewel, holding the object steady with her other hand. Then, concentrating all hers and Blaze's magic on this one spell, she slowly made the emerald shift its shape, fitting itself perfectly around the object in an oval-shape, emerald green webbed with silver.

She took the real egg from its pillow and exchanged it for the identical replica she just made, and then handed the egg to Murtagh.

"That's really neat," he said, gazing at the replica. "You said you got the idea from your grandmother?"

Nurélia nodded, feeling weaker than she had in a long while. "She has a glass replica of Blaze's egg on her mantle that I accidentally broke once. She fixed it with a few simple words, and that's what interested me in magic."

"I just have one more question," he said. She nodded her head, knowing the question before he even voiced it.

"The replica is hollow," she whispered. "So to make the replica egg believable I had to put something of equal weight to the real egg inside it. Your shirt was just to muffle the noise of the object against its case if it was ever moved."

"Oh, I see. . . . Let's get going. You need to rest." She nodded, and he helped her walk over to the door.

They concentrated on their magic, but this time it took them a great deal longer to break through. Nurélia felt weak and pathetic as they battered their way through the defenses. She hated the feeling and wanted to use their new power more than ever, but knew she couldn't and Blaze wouldn't allow her to, anyway. He blocked off that part of her mind from even her. In the early dawn hours, they finally broke through and watched it merge itself back together.

Back in her room, washed and laying upon her bed, she thought about Galbatorix's defenses and how she was a little disappointed that the barrier was all that was guarding the egg. Sure it took a great deal of energy to break through where one person couldn't stand a chance against, because if one did have the power to break through, the defense mended itself back together to where one couldn't have enough power to get back out. They'd be trapped in the room for however long it took for someone to check the treasure room.

She shrugged her shoulders, brushing the thoughts aside. She needed to get some rest. The night had been exhausting and she had her lessons to go to in a couple hours.

… … … … …

Ciarra's knocking awoke her in what felt like only a couple minutes later. She groggily opened her eyes and had to literally roll herself out of bed. After a huge yawn, she unlocked her door and ushered her servant friend in.

"Well, this is quite a change from the previous morning, miss," Ciarra said.

"Mmm hmm," Nurélia replied, sleepily. "Umm. . . I didn't get much sleep last night. Tossing and turning, you know?"

Ciarra only nodded her head, taking the lid off their breakfast and handing Nurélia a fork. She took it graciously, stabbed a piece of cantaloupe and dipped it in her vanilla yogurt. The coolness of the fruit woke her up a little more, as did the caffeinated tea. She asked the girl if there was anything new as she always did, but this time she had another reason to ask instead of only making polite conversation. Ciarra reported nothing out of the ordinary, so they finished their breakfast and Nurélia dressed once Ciarra left.

Nurélia strode down to the practice field, elated by their success of stealing the egg undetected. Soon she was not only dodging Murtagh's blows, but she was also parrying some of them. However, it still wasn't good enough.

"You're going to have to be more believable than that," Murtagh told her.

"I can't help it," she replied, panting. "You're too fast. The most I can do is block."

"Have you even been trying to hit me?" he asked, doubtful.

"Of course I have, but like I said, you're too fast. I can barely block your swings much less try to return any." Murtagh seemed confused.

"I don't mean to repeat Galbatorix, but I thought elves were supposed to be skilled swordsmen? I've seen Arya fight, and she's not only extremely proficient but graceful, too."

Nurélia was already frustrated from sparring, thinking that perhaps she really was a disgrace to her elf part, and for some reason this reference to Arya irritated her even further. She didn't like the idea of the beautiful elf and Murtagh ever meeting, much less having him talk about her grace and talents.

"Well then why don't you ask her to fight you instead?" she asked angrily, which confused not only Murtagh but herself as well.

"What? I was only stating an example of an elf's capability," he answered. His confused expression was soon overtaken by realization and he gave her a knowing smile. This only infuriated her more, yet she was still unsure why.

"You see! The mere thought of her brings a smile to your face! You obviously would rather spar with her instead of me, so I guess I'll be leaving." She threw the wooden sword down at his feet and began to walk away.

"Nurélia, wait! You misunderstood!" he called after her, but she refused to look back. He came up behind her and grabbed her hand, which only made her yank hers from him and turn around sharply to face him, her eyes flashing dangerously. He had to take a step back from their fierceness.

"What?" She knew she was overreacting, but it didn't seem to matter to her right at the moment.

"You have no reason to be jealous. Arya and I have—"

"Jealous? I'm not jealous! I hope you two are very happy," she said sarcastically. This time, Murtagh seemed annoyed.

"What is that supposed to mean? Do you not care about us and would rather see me with another woman?"

"Apparently what we have isn't good enough for you, since you and Arya—"

"There is no me and Arya!" he shouted almost pleadingly.

Nurélia stared up at him with an uncertain look, feeling her fury beginning to lessen slightly. "Then why did you even mention her?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "She's the only elf I've ever met, so I used her as an example. That's the only reason, I swear. I barely even know her." She looked deep into his eyes, those dark chocolate pools full of infatuation and worry, and felt her anger melt away.

She couldn't believe how much one single emotion could spiral out of her control, enveloping her entire being and encasing her reason in irrationality. A mixture of feelings took place of her anger: Embarrassment, curiosity, anticipation, uncertainty, but most of all she felt incredibly foolish. She averted her eyes.

"I – I'm sorry. I don't know why I acted in such a way," Nurélia said. Murtagh lifted her chin up to make her look at him. She was reluctant at first but then met his eyes. The worry in his eyes had disappeared and he was staring at her in a passionate gaze.

"I do," he replied gently, "and I understand."

Confusion flashed across her face and she felt her eyes sting with tears. "You do?"

He nodded.

"Why?" She had yelled at him, jeopardizing their relationship for a reason she couldn't understand, yet he did?

"I don't think I could bear thinking that you had eyes for another." She smiled weakly, feeling as though her heart would burst from the rush of emotion suddenly coursing through it. She buried her face in his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. They stayed that way for a while until Murtagh broke the silence.

"Of course, I would have made sure there was something between you and the other before accusing you," he added in a teasing tone. She narrowed her eyes and pushed him away.

"Okay," he said, posing in a 'no offense' gesture. "Too early for teasing. . . . Can I tell you a secret, though?"

She looked at him suspiciously, not sure if she wanted to know. "What?"

"You are _really_ cute when you're angry."

Nurélia slowly shook her head and struggled not to smile. She turned from him just before she couldn't hold it back any longer and walked toward the castle, smiling.

"Okay," he called after her. "The rest of today's lesson is cancelled, so you can head back to your room if you want," he called after her, as though it was his idea. This made her smile grow.

Suddenly, Blaze interrupted her thoughts. _So . . . that was an interesting emotion you harnessed. I've never felt that one before._

_Yeah. It was kind of ugly, wasn't it?_

_I wouldn't say __ugly__, per se. Unattractive, maybe._

_Which means the same thing._

_Although,_ he continued, as though he didn't hear her,_ Murtagh thought you were cute, so maybe it isn't too unattractive. _

_He only thought __I looked cute when angry, not for the reason behind the anger._

_You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. There was a good reason behind your little outburst._

_What are you talking about? Jealousy is not a good reason to be angry. _

_That's true, but that wasn't the reason I was referring to._

Confusion clouded her thinking. Blaze was always so much more aware of her feelings and what they meant than she was, and he always made her work them out by herself. _I just don't understand why I became jealous. I mean, sure I like him, but I__'m not the type of person who becomes jealous over a guy she merely likes, am I?_ A perceptive feeling surged through her that was not her own. _You know why, don't you? Tell me._

_It's something you have to figure out on your own._

_Yeah I thought as much. Can't blame a girl for trying though, right?_

Nurélia closed the door to her room and threw herself upon her bed. She didn't know how long she stared up at the ceiling while she sorted out her thoughts, but by the time she came up with an answer, it was already time for supper. The answer surprised her originally, making her pass it up as ridiculous, and then later realizing that it was in fact her answer: She had fallen for Murtagh. She was happy at first, but then her happiness soon merged with anxiety. How were they going to go through with their plans now?

… … … … …

As the rest of the week and half of the next passed by, Nurélia and Murtagh were growing apprehensive. Galbatorix had said in only one week would they be sent out to search for Eragon and Saphira, but for some reason they were still residing in the castle. But then early that morning, the King summoned her to his study and she was now standing outside the door, her stomach flip-flopping in anxiety. The page next to her knocked on the door and announced her before she went in herself. Moments later, Galbatorix stared at her, his expression passive.

She assumed that the reason why he called for her was because he finally wanted Murtagh and her to leave to search for Eragon and Saphira. Or perhaps Galbatorix noticed that she was improving with her swordsmanship lessons. She wasn't great, but she could hold up for a little while in a battle and could probably beat mediocre humans. There was no way she could defeat Murtagh or Eragon, and especially not an elf. But where her skills in swordsmanship fell short, her magic was always there to back her up.

She hoped and prayed that he didn't summon her because he knew about their little rescue mission. She quickly pushed those thoughts about the stolen egg out of her mind, always wary of him glancing into her subconscious when least expected and seeing something he shouldn't. Of course, she always had her mind blocked, but even though she shared the soul of his power, she knew he was still much stronger and could probably rip through those barriers like paper.

Instead, she decided to observe him as he was her. She marveled at how majestic his features were and how much he looked like an elf, knowing he was human. His dark hair was pulled back from his angular face, showing his fierce almond-shaped blue eyes. The only distinction she could note from not mistaking him as a true elf was his well groomed goatee, as elves couldn't grow facial hair. She had to admit that he was actually quite handsome, at least on the outside anyway.

"So," he said, finally breaking the silence, but not his stare. "It seems that you are finally improving in your swordsmanship skills. Our talk the other day knocked some sense into you, huh?" Nurélia didn't reply. She was too busy struggling to not let her relief show through. He still had no idea about the egg, and the less he knew about anything, the better.

"But I didn't send for you to talk about that."

She felt her hear skip a beat, yet her expression stayed indifferent. Was she celebrating too early? Did he actually know something?

He shifted in his chair; his penetrating gaze seemed to see right through her. She tried not to squirm. If she appeared nervous, he would suspect something and she wasn't sure what he already knew. Then he smiled, completely throwing her off-guard as it softened his features and made him seem more handsome than ever. His thin lips parted and his words slithered out in a smooth, fluid hum. She was sure she could literally see each sentence come out of his mouth like ribbons and in bright, beautiful colors.

"I wanted to speak with you about my plans for the present and the future. They include you and your dragon, prospering under my rule as you two, along with the newly formed Dragon Riders, maintain peace in Alagaësia. I'm sure you will soon agree that the plans I speak of are best for the entire country."

Nurélia, relieved that he did not in fact know about the egg, was about to scoff and protest to his assumptions of Blaze and her agreeing to serve under him (which would have given away that they actually had a choice in the matter), but before she could utter a sound, the dazzling sentences swirled around her, making her feel calm and attentive. Suddenly she _wanted_ to hear what he was saying, and while he continued to speak about his plans and her part in them, his sentences became new bright colors that added to the other ribbons that swirled around her. And the sound they made! It was wonderfully soothing just listening to each word as smooth as honey, seeping their way into her subconscious and making her feel dazed yet focused at the same time. And all the while she began to realize that what he was saying made perfect sense.

_Of course_ we should convince the traitorous Eragon to come here and have his female dragon breed with Thorn. They could rebuild their race, and then the magnificent King Galbatorix will rule us all with the help of his loyal Dragon Riders. Maybe if she tried hard enough, _she_ could be his first in command instead of Murtagh, and then she and Blaze could one day rule Alagaësia in the King's place. Though, they would probably never be as great and as wise as him. She was eager to begin searching for the insolent boy and his blue dragon and told the King so.

"Patience, my dear," he replied gently. "I will decide when it is best for you to leave. You must wait until both you and Murtagh are ready."

"Yes, of course," she said, gazing up at him with admiration. "You're so clever, master. I don't know how Alagaësia prospered without you." The King smiled and Nurélia beamed at the thought of pleasing him.

"Our talk worked out beautifully. I don't know why we didn't do this before."

"I would love to talk with you anytime you wish it, master," she said adoringly. She would do anything for him.

_Anything_.

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	18. Chapter Seventeen

Wow! Nine reviews in three days! You all really know how to make a girl's week. Thank you all so much!

Disclaimer: See _Prologue

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_Chapter Seventeen_

As Murtagh made his way down to the sparring field, he found Nurélia waiting for him ready to fight and holding his old hand and a half sword. She'd been using it for the past week after they broke the wooden swords when Nurélia blocked a violent blow to her head. Murtagh feared for her wellbeing since they realized that every second Nurélia improved, his aggression increased as well. She became more and more bruised and battered, yet she still refused to fight up to her true potential. It drove him crazy.

Murtagh smiled at her as he drew nearer, but then his smile faltered when she didn't return it. He shrugged it off. Maybe she was just having a bad morning and needed him to cheer her up, so when he reached the field, he leaned in to kiss her. She backed away.

"What are you doing?" she asked. Her expression was full of surprise, but her eyes held something much worse: revulsion. It stung him deeper than he ever thought possible.

He didn't understand it. What was going on? Maybe there was someone nearby and she was acting this way for that reason? He immediately projected his mind all around to try to find any sort of presence close enough to see them, but he didn't find a single person. He gave her an inquisitive look.

"What?" she asked, genuinely curious. He was shocked, unable to grasp what was happening.

"Uh, nothing. Sorry," he replied.

"So I guess we should get started then?" she suggested in a casual tone. Murtagh nodded. That's all he could do, really. He didn't know what to say or think. Something was definitely wrong. It was as though she didn't remember anything about their relationship.

This was Galbatorix's doing. He must have lulled her into some sort of trance and made her forget she ever had compassion for anyone other than the King and probably her dragon. Galbatorix did the same thing to him when Thorn hatched for him.

"Come on, Murtagh," she said, rousing him from his thoughts.

He drew Zar'roc from its sheath, put the protective shied on the blade, and then spun it once by his side as he usually did before a fight. The blood red sword glittered in the sun like Thorn's scales. He'll have to think about how to get her memory back later. If he's right about his assumption, Nurélia will be wanting to do her best to please Galbatorix. He hasn't fought her at her true potential yet, so he knew that he'll need all of his concentration.

He took his stance, and no sooner was he settled when she did the first thing he should have expected: she attacked. Yet he was so used to being the one who attacked first that he barely had time to block the force coming at him and then parry the blow to his side. Good Lord she was fast! Still not as fast as him or any other close to his level, but quite a bit faster than he'd ever seen her before. He couldn't believe how much she had actually been paying attention to his teachings when the whole time he thought she was just ignoring him to rebel against the King. She was using every trick and method he showed her to try to win. He didn't even need Galbatorix's order not to take it easy on her anymore and was thinking of nothing but trying to disarm her before _she_ hurt _him_.

He finally found a break in her block and slipped his sword between that space, flicking his wrist slightly to free the hilt of the sword from her hand. Much to her surprise, and then his by the sudden angry look on her face that replaced her shock, the sword fell several feet from them as he raised the tip of his sword to her throat. Her fiery stare burned into him as both their chests heaved from the fight; though his ached from that loathing glare way more than his shortness of breath.

Then a slow but powerful clapping was heard from the side of the sparring field. Murtagh didn't have to look over to know who was standing there. _How the devil does he always seem to appear without__me knowing about it until he makes himself known?_ he thought to Thorn.

_He's the oldest, most power__ful Rider alive, little brother. __I'm sure he has loads of tricks he hasn't taught us yet_ Thorn replied._ In fact, I don'__t think we__ will__ ever__ know all his tricks._

_Yes. You may be right about that._

"Well done, my dear," Galbatorix said. Murtagh looked at Nurélia and watched her face light up with his simple praise. It made him seethe. "Though you did not win, I am very impressed with your dedication to learning what I ask of you."

She smiled – one of the smiles Murtagh only ever saw her use for him – and then bowed to Galbatorix. "You deserve my best, master. I do wish to please you."

Murtagh openly glared at the King, hating him with every fiber in his body. It went unnoticed, however, as Galbatorix only watched Nurélia with an evil smirk. Murtagh knew that particular smirk. It meant that his plan – whatever that might be – was going accordingly.

"Again then," he ordered. "And this time, my dear, don't hold anything back." She inclined her head and then picked up her sword.

_'Don't hold back?' What was that supposed to mean?_ he thought uneasily to Thorn._ She was giving me everything she had __in the first battle, or so I thought._

_Perhaps she__ really__ wasn't_ Thorn replied.

_Well, whatever she comes at me with, I'll be ready. She __didn't win last time and she __isn't going to win this time__ or any time thereafter. I know I'm the better fighter. I've had more experience,_ Murtagh explained more to himself than Thorn.

_Just don't get too __arrogant__, little brother. Pay attention to everything._

_Okay__ thanks,_ Murtagh said genuinely. He knew Thorn was only helping, even if it didn't really sound that way. With Zar'roc already in hand, he approached her with her expression determined. He clenched his jaw and spun his blood red sword before taking his stance. He stood waiting. He'll let her come to him.

And come she did, rushing at him with what seemed like full speed, sword held in both hands to strike him above his shoulders. The gleam in her eyes was something he had never seen in them before. He crouched slightly as she drew near and then sprung up, blocking her sword as it came down. Sparks flew as the two swords clashed in a deafening blow. The force of the connection sent vibrations surging through his arms, making them feel numb for at least a couple seconds. Nurélia, too, was having the same effects, since he found the tip of her sword on the ground while the hilt rested loosely in the hands of her limp arms.

Murtagh was ready first and came at her when she was still regaining her strength, nevertheless, she parried his blow to her leg and attacked him again, pushing him back a ways. He regained his footing and stepped aside, making her lose her footing and overstep, which Murtagh took advantage of and pushed her to make her fall. Yet, by some stroke of luck, she caught herself, twirled around to face him, and swung her sword to get his left side. Murtagh's sword rose instantly to block it, but he wasn't expecting the momentum from her twirl. Her sword knocked his into his shoulder, making it bruise. She smirked at him wincing.

He pushed her sword away but then had to block another blow to his side. She kept attacking, blow after blow, becoming quicker with each one; however, he blocked them just as quickly, if not more, and actually came to anticipate her next moves. She was easy to read, which gave him the time to figure out a way to defeat her. Then, he had an idea. He began to step almost as though they were dancing instead of fighting, with her anxiously trying to follow every move. They hadn't practiced footwork very much, so it was still fairly new to her. He felt her swings begin to lose their velocity, and her coordination was slipping as well, since her feet couldn't keep up with his. With another couple of steps, he gained the upper hand and feigned a blow to her right. While she tried to block a sword that wouldn't be there, she left her other side unguarded, which was the perfect opportunity to swing Zar'roc's gleaming blade in that opening.

What it met was completely unexpected, to say the least. His sword didn't even come close to her when it collided with another force, invisible except for an orange hue. His eyes widened in surprise. She smirked at him and knocked his sword aside. Now he understood what Galbatorix meant by telling her to 'not hold anything back'. She was using her magic along with her sword! How was he supposed to compete with her now? He knew perfectly well that his skills in magic couldn't compare with hers.

_You __mean just like she knows that her swordsmanship skills couldn't compare with yours?_ Thorn cut in. Murtagh pondered this for a second.

_You're right._ Murtagh took a deep breath. _Okay, __I can do this.__ I'll even defeat her _without_ having to use magic._

_Remember what I told you earlier__ about being too arrogant._

_I remember_ Murtagh said with a roll of his eyes._ What? You don't think I can defeat her?_

_I didn't say that._

Murtagh brushed the comment off and took his stance as she came at him, but this time he met her in the middle instead of only waiting. They slashed and blocked, all the while moving in the footwork in which Murtagh led. He would stay on a series of steps until she began to get the hang of them, and then he would switch them again. Every step was second nature to him, whereas Nurélia struggled with each new change. Nevertheless, once he would find an unguarded area, she would block him with one simple word.

Then at long last, he understood her form. With a feign to her left, then right, and left again, he annoyed her to where she swung around to her right to gain speed for her next blow, but by doing so she left her back exposed, which was just what he wanted. He snuck Zar'roc through a gap under her right arm and jerked his sword in the opposite direction she was turning in, catching the hilt of her sword and knocking it out her hands, completely surprising her. While she watched her sword fly across the field, Murtagh touched the point of his blade to her exposed neck.

"Dead," he said breathlessly. His lungs burned for air from their exertion. She walked over to retrieve her sword and wouldn't look at him, then stopped in front of Galbatorix with her head bowed and waited for her punishment for losing. To Murtagh's astonishment, the King placed his hands on her shoulders like a father would his daughter.

"You did very well, my dear," he said gently.

"But I did not win, my lord," she replied.

"No, but you proved that you can fight near as well as my best swordsman. That's something isn't it?" Nurélia smiled up at him and he offered his arm to walk with her back to the castle.

_Was that a compliment for you, little brother?_ Thorn asked, unbelieving.

_I – I think it was,_ Murtagh answered in the same tone.

_Huh,_ they said in unison.

"And with a bit more practice," Galbatorix continued, "I'm sure you could surpass him with little difficulty. He really isn't as accomplished as I'd like him to be. He probably didn't even think of using magic until you did, and even then he still didn't use any."

_I knew it was too good to last,_ Murtagh sulked.

_Yup,__m__e__ too,_ agreed Thorn.

Murtagh followed them up to the castle, catching little bits of their conversation, which was increasing the intensity of his temper. He left them at the foyer and headed to his room, seething at the King's power of manipulation. Murtagh kicked his nightstand. It smashed against the wall, causing bits of the stone blocks to crumble to the floor. He flung himself upon his bed and gave an aggravated yell. Nurélia and he were so close to leaving the castle with only a minor glitch in their plans. He didn't think that Galbatorix would have Nurélia and Blaze share the power from the Vault of Souls.

Now, however, they were faced with another problem. Nurélia didn't remember them ever having a relationship, which probably meant that everything that they did together apart from sparring was forgotten. He doubted that she even remembered them stealing the egg. Of course, that was actually a good thing, because if she knew about it, she would most likely tell Galbatorix, and then their rescue would have been for nothing.

Murtagh thought about their plans for the egg. It was nestled safely in the bottom of his wardrobe, covered by his black traveling cloak. He couldn't run any ideas by Nurélia, and he wondered how he was going to get it to his brother and the Varden.

A knock at his door stirred him from his thoughts. He glanced around at the mess in his room, and then said a few words to repair what was damaged before he opened the door. The servant didn't even look up from his feet, though, when he told him that the King needed to see him, so he needn't have bothered.

In the throne room he found not only Nurélia and Galbatorix, but also Blaze and Thorn. One would think that it would become a little crowded with both dragons side by side, but surprisingly enough, there was plenty of room. Now if Shruikan was in here as well, then they would have some space issues, as the enormous dragon nearly took up half the room.

Murtagh stood beside Nurélia with Thorn on his right and awaited his orders. Galbatorix didn't waste any time.

"I've decided to send you all after that boy and his dragon. I believe that Nurélia is finally ready to face them, and so the four of you will set out in your search tomorrow morning. Murtagh and Thorn will head southeast toward Surda, and Nurélia and Blaze will go northeast toward the forest where the elves are believed to be.

"I suggest you prepare yourselves for a very long journey. I don't want any of you to return without valuable information, my summons, or better yet, the Rider and his dragon… _alive_. Understand?" All four nodded their heads once in answer.

"Good. Now go."

Murtagh thought about what their separation would mean as he made his way back to his room. For one thing, he couldn't help Nurélia break through her repressed memories, and for another, splitting up could mean that the egg would never be safe from Galbatorix. He couldn't allow that to happen. Then, an idea came to him; he just hoped it would work.

… … … … …

Nurélia awoke early the next morning, elated about beginning her search for the Rider and his dragon. She packed her belongings and was about to head down to the dragon hold when a servant blocked her way out. She was around the age of twelve, with mousy brown hair and a stained apron. She held a silver tray, which Nurélia guessed her breakfast was in. The girl smiled up at Nurélia and walked into the room.

"Good morning, miss," she said brightly. "I brought you some fresh raspberries today. I know they're your favorite." She set the tray down on the table and began to arrange some things for a better presentation.

Nurélia just stared at her with a puzzled expression. "How do you know that? And who exactly are you?"

The girl stared back, her expression equally confused. "I'm Ciarra, miss. Don't you remember?" When Nurélia didn't give any sign of recognition, she continued, "I bring you breakfast every morning, and then we sit and eat it next to the window."

"We?" Nurélia scoffed. "Since when does a Rider eat any sort of meal with a _servant_?" Ciarra's eyes began to tear. "Oh, you're not going to cry, are you?"

The girl lowered her eyes to the floor and said in a quivering voice, "If you need anything else, miss, I'll just be outside your door."

"No, that won't be necessary. You can go back to your chores and come for the tray in about half of an hour. Do you know when half of an hour is?"

"Yes, miss."

"Good. You may leave." She looked over at the tray and picked up the porridge. "And take this with you," Nurélia added, shoving the bowl into the poor girl and making some of it slop onto her already filthy apron. The Rider grimaced at the sight and then shooed the girl away, ignoring the tears that fell into the bowl as the girl left.

Down in the dragon hold, Nurélia strapped Blaze's saddle on and then packed her things in his saddlebags. She acknowledged Murtagh when he came in but didn't pay much attention to him after that. Once they were all settled, Nurélia mounted Blaze as Murtagh settled himself on Thorn. She looked at the two dragons, comparing their size. Blaze could look right over Thorn's head, but Thorn was still much bigger than he should be at his age. She didn't really want to make conversation with Murtagh, but she was curious.

"How did you make Thorn grow so fast?"

"What?" Murtagh replied, apparently not hearing her.

She grew annoyed. Why couldn't he just pay attention? "Never mind," she answered. "Galbatorix most likely preformed some sort of spell at the time, because I'm sure your magical abilities were no where near the capability." She watched his reaction, hoping for some retaliation, but as always, he backed down from her challenge. It was almost pathetic, really. Although, it was nice knowing that he won't be much of a threat while she tried to take over his position to the King. She smirked at him and urged Blaze to take off.

Murtagh's expression was firm, yet she noted the hurt in his eyes as she and Blaze rose to the sky. _Yes,_ she thought to herself. _Pathetic was the perfect word to describe him._

_I don't understand why Thorn would choose such a person for his Rider,_ she said to Blaze.

_I know what you mean,_ he answered. _He's too soft for his high position._

_Very true__, but his position__ will soon change when we deliver __the Rider__ and __his dragon__ to his majesty. _We_ will be second in command__, not that inadequate twit_ She felt Blaze's excitement and smiled.

_As for our journey, _Blaze began, _in which direction should we head? North and then east, following the edge of the forest to the __elven__ capital? Or would you prefer to__ head northeast,__ lead__ing__ a straight path across the __Hadarac__ to __Ellesméra_

_Are we even sure they're in Ellesméra? I mean, they could be anywhere. _

_It's our best bet. So what's our decision?_

_Hmm…__ I'm not sure. If we head northeast, there isn't anything for you to prey on in the desert, bu__t if we fly north and then east, it will take far longer and I don't want to make Galbatorix wait to__o__ long for our success. All in all, it's your decision. Either you have plenty to eat by us following the forest's edge, or you suck it up and deal with your hunger as we fly through the desert._

_I thought you would figure out some way to put this on my shoulders,_ he teased. _Thoug__h I can tell in __which direction you would rather us take__ by the way you expressed my options to me_ He was silent for a moment and then veered to the right, heading northeast.

Nurélia smiled. _I knew you'd see it my way in the end._

_You're just lucky you strapped yourself in that __saddle,__ else__ you would be soaring through the air without my help and in a more vertical direction_

_I highly doubt __you would let me fall to my death, _she said arrogantly.

_That's probably true… __No matter. I have other ways in making you feel uneasy_ he said, glancing back at her.

Nurélia glared at him. _You wouldn't dare_.

_Ah ha, not so smug now, are you?_

_Blaze, I swear, if you even _begin_ to __attempt __what I know you're thinking of doing, __I will make your life miserable until I haven't a breath left in me._

_That threat is about as empty as mine was of letting you fall._ Nurélia tightened her lips, knowing he was right. _Besides,_ he continued, _a little exercise will do me some good._

_Blaze! Don't eve—"_ But then a high-pitched scream erupted from her lips, cutting off her sentence, as Blaze tucked his wings to his side and twisted in the air as he plummeted to the ground. Nurélia clung to Blaze with her eyes closed so tight that they began to hurt, while her heart beat faster than a hummingbird's wings. At the last possible second, Blaze spread his wings to let the wind catch them and lift him high where he did a couple loops and slithered through the air like a serpent in the water. Nurélia's voice grew sore from screaming. Her stomach churned uncomfortably, making her lose her breakfast over Blaze's side. He tilted slightly so she wouldn't get any of it on him.

_I don't understand how a Rider becomes sick over a few simple gestures. You know that if we are ever in battle, I will have to use __moves like that to escape enemy fire. And what do you think will happen if we have to fight another dragon in the air?_

Nurélia didn't answer. She fumed while she rinsed out her mouth with water from her canteen and then searched in her bags for something to chew on to get the nasty taste out of her mouth. Her stomach didn't settle until nightfall, and even then it didn't let her eat very much of her dinner.

For two days they traveled through the heat of the Hadarac, stopping at night to rest for a few hours and then taking flight at the brink of dawn. Nurélia still refused to talk to Blaze, who had given up trying to make her talk to him after the first night. She wouldn't even listen to his apologies.

On the second night, however, Nurélia made an interesting discovery while searching through one of Blaze's saddlebags for the map that she had for finding the elven city. There on the bottom was the emerald green dragon egg, stolen from Galbatorix's treasury. She pulled it out and laid it next to the fire, watching the reflections of the flames on its smooth green surface. Blaze glanced between it and Nurélia's surprised expression. She then looked at him in askance.

_Don't look at me like that,_ he said. _I'm as shocked as you are._

_Then how—_ She stopped, her eyes narrowing. "I can't believe he did this," she fumed aloud. "He probably thinks he's so clever trying to set me up by having his majesty think that I stole the egg."

She felt Blaze's confusion. _What on earth are you talking about?_ he asked.

"Murtagh!" she yelled. "He stole the egg from the treasury and put it in my bag to frame me! Well, I won't be blamed for this. We're going right back to Urû'baen in the morning to straighten it out." She glanced over to Blaze, who was giving her a blank stare. "What?" She felt him search through her memory and then felt a mixture of emotions through him: curiosity, surprise, confusion, but most of all, amazement.

_This is so bizarre,_ he said finally. _You honestly don't remember anything about the night Murtagh _and you_ stole the dragon egg._

"I did not! I would never steal something so valuable from my king! How dare you even suggest it, Blaze! Perhaps you would prefer Murtagh to be your new—"

But before she could continue, Blaze forced his way into her mind and found a large section of memories built up behind a solid black wall. He beat against it with all his might trying to bust it open, but it was as though it was made of steel. Still, he wouldn't give up. Unaware as to how much time had passed, Blaze kept hammering his mind against the wall, finally cracking it. He watched as a few memories trickled out before the wall healed itself, becoming just as strong as before. The dragon was too tired to try again, though, and rested his head on the desert sand. He opened one eye, noticing that the early morning sun was just now peeking over the horizon to start a new day. He didn't realize he was in her mind for so long. Nurélia sat across from him with her knees curled at her chest and her head in her arms.

The pounding headache made her teeth rattle and sent shivers down her spine. Silent tears fell freely, splashing upon the sand only to be absorbed just as quickly as they landed. She couldn't imagine her dragon ever hurting her and couldn't understand the reason for it now. She felt somewhat betrayed, uncertain that she should continue to be with him; yet separation felt so unethical and out of the question that she pushed the thought away as quickly as it had come. Her mind raced for some sort of reason for what he did and suddenly came across a memory she didn't remember ever doing, but somehow felt that she did. It was very strange, and not to mention completely confusing. The most peculiar part was that it was the same memory Blaze and she were discussing earlier. What did it mean?

Then a thought occurred to her that seemed so unfathomable, yet dreadfully believable at this point: Blaze somehow planted the memory in her mind. He was thrashing around in her head for what felt like hours, and why? To make her believe he was telling the truth. How else would she 'suddenly' remember a memory? And one she didn't even remember doing until the memory made itself known. He must have also forced her into thinking she actually did it, as well, since the familiarity of the memory was too strong to ignore. For what, though? She didn't understand it.

Galbatorix had always told her since the day she became a Rider that the extent of a dragon's power is unknown. She just didn't realize that Blaze would use his power to . . . Wait, was it Galbatorix who told her that? For some reason she felt that it had been someone else, yet for the life of her, she couldn't remember anyone else teaching her anything about dragons except for her noble king. Perhaps it was just the aftereffects of what ever Blaze did to her.

She looked over at him. He was watching her most carefully even though she could tell he wanted nothing better than to close his eyes and sleep. She thought long and hard about his actions and the result of them. He will pay for what he did. She would make sure Galbatorix knew about Blaze's attempt to convince her into thinking she did anything against her king. She let herself daydream about his majesty praising her for realizing when she was being manipulated, and then choosing the side she knew was right: his.

She slept through the morning, as her headache was still giving her trouble, and woke up a little after noon. There was still a dull thumping in the back of her head, but she ignored it. The day was now half over, and they had a lot of ground to make up. Once she had something to settle her growling stomach, she walked over to Blaze with a stern expression upon her face.

"I've decided to overlook what happened last night for the sake of our duty to our King. We were given a task that I still plan to complete, and I need your help. But when we return, Blaze, I will not disregard it any longer, and you will have to answer to his Majesty."

He stared at her for a while and then inclined his head in acknowledgement. She settled herself in his saddle. They flew in silence for the remainder of the afternoon, but as they neared the edge of the forest, Nurélia felt a strong presence about a hundred or so yards away.

_What is that, Blaze?_ she asked, knowing her dragon could see whatever is was. She felt Blaze's excitement and knew exactly what, or more specific, _who_ they were.

_The sapphire dragon and her Rider approach us_

Nurélia squealed. _This is just too perfect. Head straight for them, and make sure that we are directly in their way._

Blaze did as he was told, shifting to the left a little to align himself with the blue dragon's flight. She watched through Blaze's eyes the precise moment when they realized another dragon was coming toward them. Their expressions held tremendous astonishment, which was the exact advantage she was hoping for. She couldn't help but laugh aloud in glee. They had _no idea_ what they were flying into.

When they came in range, she extracted herself from Blaze's sight and held up her shining palm. She then tapped into hers and Blaze's new power and muttered a simple phrase, making the dragon stop abruptly in midair. Their recognition of what was going on was absolutely priceless. The Rider's expression was first shocked and then furious, while the dragon's eyes were fierce with rage. Nurélia brushed their anger aside and ordered Blaze to gradually make his way down so Nurélia could float the two down safely.

Once they landed, Nurélia unbelted herself from the saddle and slid off Blaze while still holding onto the spell to keep them from moving. She became a little worried when the thought of the boy trying to release her magic from them briefly brushed across her mind, but then she relaxed when she realized that he couldn't perform spells without speaking. Rider or not, he _was_ only human, after all.

She walked up to the pair to get a better look at them, smirking at their fury. The boy actually took her by surprise at how much he looked like an elf, yet she didn't allow the emotion to show on her face. She assumed his stay with the elves had something to do with that. As for the dragon, Nurélia couldn't contain her awe of how gorgeous she was. Her scales glittered like thousands of sapphires, and her build was lean and smooth. She was only slightly shorter than Blaze, but Blaze was definitely much broader, as he rarely ever ceased eating.

She actually almost felt sorry for capturing such a beautiful creature, but then the thought of her King's overjoyed face as she brought him the two rebels extinguished the feeling instantly.

"We arrest you in the illustrious name of King Galbatorix, Supreme Ruler of Alagaësia and celebrated Dragon Rider," she declared, her eyes shining bright.

* * *

Ahhahahahaha! She is in soo much trouble with you guys; I can just tell. I couldn't even believe some of the things she did, and I wrote it! I swear, it's so weird when your characters take on a mind of their own. 

Anyway, I'm so excited for the third book! It is now officially entitled **Brisingr** and has the majestic, golden Glaedr on its cover! Out at 12:01 a.m. on Saturday, September 20th of this year!

For my anonymous reviewer:

**Katelyn** - Thanks! I hope this chapter was to your liking, as well. :)


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Wow! Eleven reviews? I'm thoroughly impressed! I had figured that many of you would stop reading my story after what Nurélia's done so far. I'm very grateful that at least a chunk of you are sticking with me. :) I promise she gets better after this chapter. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: See _Prologue_

* * *

_Chapter Eighteen_

It had only been a little past a day when he last saw Nurélia and already Murtagh was wondering how she fared. Her determined expression in capturing the young Rider made him want to find him first, yet only to warn him. He knew what would have to happen if he did actually find Eragon. With Nurélia, though, her behavior throughout the past week had been a little disconcerting. He knew Galbatorix was the reason behind her abnormal behavior, for the dark king did something very similar to him not too long ago. Thankfully, though, Nurélia had come along to talk some sense into him; he only wished he could do the same for her, but she always told him that she was too busy to spare a moment for him. Those words and the manner in which she said them still stung when he thought about it.

Thorn was a constant bother as he incessantly made him try to focus on their search for Eragon instead, which he didn't want to think about, either. Their battle on the Plains still brought unpleasant thoughts and emotions cascading throughout his mind and body. And the knowledge of him being his brother didn't help matters. He didn't wish to kill him, but his servitude under Galbatorix didn't give either one of them much of a choice. They both knew one of them had to die whenever they met each other again, and Murtagh wasn't ready to give his soul to the Vault yet.

Suddenly, he felt the major source of power within Galbatorix and himself surge enormously, forcing the thoughts about his brother to the back of his mind once more. The surge confused him at first. What would Galbatorix need to use the power for and in such a great collection, he wondered. And then he remembered who else contained their shared power…

_Do you think she's captured them, Thorn?_

_It's the only explanation for it,_ he answered. Murtagh cursed.

_I'll never hear the end of it now. She already thinks I'm incompetent, and now she's captured, in less than two days mind you, the very two beings we've been in search of for more than three months. What must she think of me now?_

_Oh good. I'm glad to hear your priorities are in order._

_And what is that supposed to mean?_

_You weren't even trying to search for Saphira and her Rider, let alone capture them, so what are you complaining about? _

_Apparently nothing,_ Murtagh grumbled.

_Besides, did you forget the fact that her mind has been corrupted by Galbatorix? She probably didn't even mean the things she's said in the past few days and won't think any less of you once his influence has been removed._

_Probably?_

_Well who am I to know? I don't have even a slight indication of what she was thinking at the time. I was just trying to ease your mind so you can focus on what is really important, like our plans for the egg, for instance. And the capture of Saphira and her Rider doesn't help with those plans._

_No, you're right. It doesn't,_ Murtagh agreed. _Do you think we can get to them before they reach Urû'baen?_

_I'm not sure. Blaze has stronger wings than my own, and we're quite a distance from them while they are not far from the dark city._

_We have to try, Thorn. If they hand over Eragon, all hope for a better Alagaësia will be lost._

_I'll do my best,_ Thorn said with determination.

... ... ... ... ...

Nurélia gathered some wood that was scattered around the area and put some in a pile for a fire. They had flown with the two motionless captives trailing behind until the sun began to sink in the horizon. They were still about a day and a half away, and rather than make Blaze fly the entire way without stopping, she had him land in a small clearing next to some trees. She wanted enough wood for a fire to keep her warm during the night, as she was still a little upset with Blaze from the night before and knew she wouldn't sleep under his wing like usual. Once her pile was a good size, she turned to Blaze.

"Can I get a little help here, please?" she asked in an exasperated tone. "I would start it myself, but I don't want to waste any magic on something you can do."

Blaze lazily brought his head over to her pile and lightly blew on the branches. Bright orange flames erupted from his mouth in a controlled amount so as not to singe his Rider, who was only standing a foot away. She sat by the flames without even a 'thank you', as though his obeying her was expected. He could feel that something definitely wasn't right.

Nurélia glanced over at the boy and his dragon suspended about a foot off the ground and smirked. _They_ were supposed to be the fall of her glorious King? Not a chance. They could barely even _breathe_ in her powerful grasp, let alone do anything else.

_How long are you going to keep them like that?_ Blaze asked.

"As long as I need to," Nurélia replied, irritated.

_Do you think our magic can keep them captive until we return to Urû'baen?_ Nurélia paused.

"I didn't think of that," she admitted. ". . . but it has kept them immobile so far."

_And what are you going to do when they grow hungry, as I'm sure they are now? Let them starve?_

"If it comes to that, then so be it."

_That doesn't sound like you._

"The old me was weak. My king made me stronger and for that I will always be grateful."

_Being stronger doesn't imply you acting like this._

"Like what?" she asked innocently.

_So . . . I don't know . . . heartless._

"Heartless? How can you say that? I love _you_ – when you're not trying to force your way into my head, only the gods know why – and I love our king."

_What about a mate?_ Blaze asked, curious to what she might say. Nurélia was silent for a minute but then answered, "Well, if any man is worthy of my love, of course I will love him, too."

_There was already one whom you liked well enough._ Nurélia stared at him with a confused expression and then suddenly understood whom he was talking about.

"Do you mean _Murtagh_? Pfft! When was he ever worthy? . . . What's gotten into you Blaze? You're acting strange. First you wanted to free these" – she glanced over at the two suspended in the air and gave a sharp laugh – "pathetic excuses for a dragon and Rider – no, don't try to deny it. I could feel that's what you wanted. And now, you're saying that _Murtagh_, another sad excuse for a Rider, is worthy enough for _me_?"

_I don't know. I just feel differently ever since we've been away from Urû'baen. Do you think Galbatorix has a negative influence over us?_

"Don't be ridiculous, Blaze. I chose to fight for the Empire under King Galbatorix all on my own. And why shouldn't I? He has more power in his little finger than anyone in Alagaësia."

_There you go again talking about power as the reason you serve Galbatorix. That isn't the real you speaking. I have a strange feeling that Galbatorix did something to you, and through you, me. But for some reason, the effects are beginning to wear off on me. Maybe because I wasn't affected directly?_

"Listen Blaze," she began in a low, threatening voice. "I suggest you cease talking about our king with such negativity, unless you want _another_ report against you, because don't think I'm not reporting your behavior from last night."

She drew her eyes from his and stared into the fire. After a few minutes of feeling how concerned Blaze was for the blue dragon and not at all reflecting upon his offending behavior against their great king and the reports she was going to file against him, she grew impatient and a little angry.

"I can't just let them go, Blaze," she snapped.

_No, I know. It's just that . . . I don't like seeing the blue one in the helpless state I was once in._ Nurélia's breath caught in her chest. She had completely forgotten about Blaze's time of helplessness. She hated the feeling almost as much as he did.

_I felt so useless not being able to protect the one person who means the most to me._

"Oh, Blaze . . . don't be so dramatic," she scoffed. "I wasn't in any danger, and you deserved your punishment."

_What?_ Blaze replied, completely bewildered. _We had no idea if Murtagh was going to kill you or not, and I wasn't being punished. He kept me restrained so we couldn't escape._

Nurélia stared at him with a bemused smile. "What in Alagaësia are you going on about? . . . Escape, pfft! Murtagh held you in that state because you wouldn't pay attention to Galbatorix's lessons, and it was the only impressive thing I've seen Murtagh ever do. . . . I swear, you have quite an imagination, Blaze," she said, shaking her head and turning back to the fire. Blaze could only stare at her without one word in response.

"Getting back to the matter at hand," she continued, still keeping her attention on the fire, "I'm not exactly sure how long our magic will hold them, so we'll just have to make haste, which is what I wanted to do anyway. I'm eager to get back." Her eyes held a mad glint in them for a split second that sent a chill down Blaze's spine. He had to do something about this state she's in and soon. She rose to get a blanket out of Blaze's saddlebags and a little something to eat. She then made herself comfortable by the fire. "Get some rest, Blaze. We leave at dawn."

Blaze watched her fall asleep, all the while wondering how he was going to remove the strong wall around her real memories and hoping that the return of those memories will most likely push out the false "memories" that Galbatorix somehow planted in her head. She didn't even remember her own grandmother, whom taught Nurélia and him everything they knew about magic and dragons. He went through every plan he could think of but knew none of them would work. His only hope was to somehow get through to the blue one and her Rider, pool their magic together, and break down that wall – except he had no idea how he was going to do that, either. He had to think fast though, because he knew that this was probably the only chance he'll have. Once the sun comes up, Nurélia will want him to fly back to Galbatorix as fast as he was able, and he could get there way before night fall if he wanted to.

Blaze looked over at the two. They seemed to be in conversation; their faces held loathing beyond anything he's ever seen before, and he could actually feel the rage emanating off of them. How was he going to convince them that he and Nurélia were in fact on their side, but Nurélia was under an evil spell that was making her do this to them? It seemed hopeless, yet he had to try. He lifted his head for a better view, drawing their attention to him. To his great surprise, the blue one's expression in her eyes softened when she looked at him. Granted, it was a _very_ little, but he still took it as a good sign. Blaze took a deep breath. It was now or never.

He let go of some of the magic that he was giving to capture them – which was much harder than he thought it was going to be – making it to where the blue one could move her head but nothing more. He made sure that the Rider still couldn't move a centimeter, not wanting the boy to think he could use magic to release them, which would result in the young Rider's and his dragon's deaths. The moment he let the walls around his mind down, he felt a powerful force enter it.

_RELEASE US!_ came a rough, female voice. She sounded angry for the most part, but Blaze detected a tiny bit of curiosity mixed with it.

_I'm sorry,_ Blaze responded in the Ancient Language and so genuinely that it surprised her, but only for a moment. She immediately buried the emotion under her anger._ I want to help you,_ he continued,_ but I can't do it alone. My Rider and I are more connected than ever when we use this power, and it's already taking a lot from me to hide what I'm doing from her and to talk to you._

She didn't answer at first, most likely taking time to converse with her Rider. Then she asked, _Why are you hiding your actions from your Rider?_

_She isn't herself,_ Blaze replied dismally._ We were captured by Thorn and Murtagh_ – at the mention of their names, a hot surge of hate passed through their connection from her – _and then taken to King Galbatorix_ – another surge – _who forced us to pledge loyalty to him—_

_You are under Galbatorix's control?!_ she raged.

_No, we aren't. Please, let me finish. He doesn't know our true names like he does Murtagh's and Thorn's so he was unable to fully compel us to pledge to him. We found a loop hole in his oath and instead promised our loyalties to . . . someone else,_ Blaze finished lamely. He wasn't sure if the two knew about one of the elves' greatest secrets, and if they didn't, he wasn't going to let it slip.

_If you don't have loyalties to Galbatorix, then why did you capture us?_ she asked with surmounting suspicion.

_I told you, my Rider isn't herself. Galbatorix did something to her – a spell or enchantment – to make her act this way._

_How convenient._

_I know it's hard to believe, and you have every reason to distrust me, but I'm serious. Please, I need your help to break down a barrier she has around her true memories. Then that should release her, and in turn, you._

_And I assume that when my gullible Rider and I merge our powers with yours, you will have some way of absorbing most of our energy, leaving us weak and easy to deal with. Am I close?_

_If I had a way of doing what you just proposed, I would have done it already through the link we share now,_ Blaze replied in an aggravated tone. He closed his eyes and sighed. . . . _How can I convince you that I speak the truth? We are already conversing in a language where one cannot lie._

This seemed to convince her a little about his integrity, since her voice was somewhat softer when she asked, _Why can't you break down the barrier with this great power you hold us with now?_

_I can't use it without Galbatorix knowing about it, and quite a bit of it is being used on you two._ He felt her confusion. _Listen, I'm sorry, but I don't have time to explain it to you right now. If you're going to help me, please let me know soon. I'm growing weaker by the minute keeping __our connection private. She'll wake up before we even try if we don't hurry, and then I do not know if I will ever get her back._

After what felt like several hours passed by, though it was probably only a few minutes or so, the blue one and her Rider finally agreed to lend their powers to help. Blaze could already feel his energy begin to decline, but then suddenly, he felt a magnificent force of energy pass through his connection with the blue dragon. An enormous sense of respect flowed through him for the two, especially when they seemed as determined as he was; although he imagined their determination was for their freedom, but he was perfectly all right with that.

Together they passed through into Nurélia's mind to break down the solid stone wall. Blaze felt Nurélia wake up and sensed her immense displeasure and hurt. He had to push his guilt aside, however, so he could concentrate on the matter at hand.

The three joined minds pushed against the wall with as much force as they could muster and, slowly but surely, began splitting the wall in numerous cracks. Blaze's heart leapt in delight, giving him a surge in his energy, which caused even more cracks and made some of the previous ones bigger.

... ... ... ... ...

Nurélia had no idea what Blaze thought he was doing, but she had no time to think about it as the pain forced everything else to the back of her mind. Then, all of the sudden, memories of someone's life began to trickle out from nowhere. What was happening? Why was she seeing these memories of a life not of her own? There was a man with starlight hair who looked somewhat like an elf telling her stories and teaching her about his family's business; there was a beautiful woman tucking her into bed and teaching her different ways to cook certain poisonous plants so they weren't lethal to make them into a healing paste; then later, there was an elf woman teaching her and Blaze about magic and dragons – wait. That can't be right. King Galbatorix taught them about all of that…didn't he?

The memories were flowing faster now, flooding her mind with a strange familiarity that she couldn't quite explain. It wasn't only memories now, either, but new emotions as well; ones she wasn't accustomed to, like compassion, sympathy, remorse, and clemency.

Memory after memory flashed before her of a land completely different from that of Alagaësia and filled with the man and the two women. Even Blaze was in most of the ones with the elf woman and she couldn't grasp how. What confused her the most, however, was that she felt as though she knew who the three people were, yet she didn't really _know_ them. How could she? She was raised by Galbatorix after she was abandoned as a baby, growing up alongside Murtagh and – Oh, no! Murtagh! The things she said to him the past couple days she saw him was too dreadful to think about, and she wondered if he'd ever forgive her. Wait, when did _she_ care about _Murtagh_? Okay, this was getting way too confusing. And she didn't like it.

... ... ... ... ...

Blaze was ecstatic with their progress as the memories came through much more rapidly than before. If they kept this up, he would have Nurélia, the _real_ Nurélia, back by morning. Then suddenly, Blaze's forces were hit viciously with another force in accordance with the wall, throwing them off balance and making the wall's cracks begin to heal themselves as before – Nurélia was beginning to fight back.

They pushed harder, trying to suppress Nurélia's resistance toward what they wanted to accomplish, and felt her efforts begin to withdraw. Blaze knew they had to keep her power at bay or they would lose their progress with the wall, but once she began to sink further out of the way, she changed her tactics. Blaze felt their shared power over the dragon and Rider diminish as her strength of force pushing him out of her head increased. He panicked while watching the cracks in the barrier start to heal itself. In the midst of their battle, he felt the dragon's and Rider's support pull away, making the struggle even harder for him to gain an advantage. Blaze looked over at the two captives and noticed – even through his own troubles – that they were deep in concentration. His eyebrows met as he tried to figure out what they were doing and also trying to keep his place in his fight over Nurélia's mind.

Then suddenly, he lost his hold. The barrier around Nurélia's memories began to heal itself immediately. He was hurled out of her mind, leaving him with a pounding headache, and seconds later, Nurélia collapsed on the sand.

The power encasing the dragon and her Rider was released, letting them leap into the sky to distance themselves from their new threat.

And Blaze was left to wonder if he will ever find a way to lift the spell on his beloved Rider.

* * *

Thanks for reading! And I'm sorry that this chapter took so long for me to update, and it isn't even as long as the others. I'm hoping to get the next chapter out much sooner, since finals are over by the end of this week and I'll have nothing but time to work on my stories. :)

Review please!


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Thanks so much to my reviewers, and I'm so sorry for the way too long update! I put this story on hold to finish another of mine, and I failed to realize that it's been an entire year and almost a half since my last chapter. –grimaces– I'll take into consideration the time it takes me to update the next chapter.

In lieu of my absence from this story, _Chapter Nineteen_ is over six thousand words. Hope you like. :)

Disclaimer: See _Prologue_

* * *

_Chapter Nineteen_

Nurélia's head pounded while she struggled to adjust with this surge of new memories cascading through her mind. The sense of vague familiarity surrounding each one was a little disconcerting, but it was also comforting in a strange way. They filled in most of the holes in her memories of growing up with Galbatorix. Of course, they also contradicted most of the memories with the dark king as well, which made this chaotic jumble in her mind all the more confusing.

She began to sort through the memories with a bit of difficulty, noticing that the ones with Galbatorix somehow didn't have as much of a genuine feeling about them as the others with the man and the two women, whose names still eluded her. They came in kind of fuzzy, and it was rather quite irritating, really.

She began to delve into the matter more and realized that she didn't have any of these memories until Blaze started thrashing about in her mind. She knew a dragon's power could be limitless, as no one really knew how much a dragon could do, but she honestly didn't think Blaze would create all of these memories. For what reason would he? They had to be hers from growing up with these three familiar strangers – if that made any sense. Then suddenly, she began to remember little details about each one of the strangers: How the woman's hair felt so soft when little Nurélia used to run her tiny fingers through it, and the feel of her lips on her forehead when she tucked her in; how the man's laugh sounded when little Nurélia would do something silly just to hear his beautiful, singsong of a laugh; and the way the elf smelled like honeysuckle when she used to bring her close in a warm embrace.

Nurélia's frustration surmounted when the memories began to swim in her mind as she went through them one after another with each one passing by her consciousness even faster than the last. She tried to slow their speed, if only just a little, but couldn't seem to grasp any of them longer than a second.

_Blaze!_ she cried out, pleading. _Help me make sense of this, please!_

_The only way I will be able to, _he began gently, _is if we both work together to destroy the solid barrier in your mind._

_I don't care how you do it,_ she shouted in desperation._ Just, please, do it quickly! It hurts me so!_

Blaze merged as much power as he could with hers and they strove to demolish the seemingly unbreakable wall. Instead of wasting time looking for a weakness, as Blaze was sure the wall resealed itself fully from the last time he tried, they set to work bashing against the wall with all the energy they could muster, trying to weaken it that way. Blaze found the process much easier with Nurélia's cooperation, as the wall didn't seem as strong with her knowledge of it being in her mind. The wall began to crumble within the first couple of good hits, making Nurélia gasp with the force of memories that suddenly escaped through the hole they had made.

With Nurélia too absorbed in her memories, Blaze was forced to continue with beating down the wall on his own. But he didn't mind; the wall was caving. He gave one more huge push, putting the rest of the energy he could spare into the action, and the wall finally gave way.

Nurélia grimaced as every lost memory surged through her mind, each one pressing upon her as though afraid it would be forgotten again. The throb of them was almost unbearable. She couldn't handle the rush and soon fell under unconsciousness.

… … … … …

Thorn flew with all his might towards the place Murtagh and he sensed Nurélia and Blaze. The scene Murtagh took in when they neared the two made his heart rate quicken and a pressure settle in his chest. Blaze was standing with his head bowed over Nurélia's seemingly lifeless form.

_Oh, no,_ he thought to Thorn in a dejected tone. _Thorn, are we too late?_

_What, has your affection for this girl made you incapable of thinking clearly?_ he asked his Rider, somewhat annoyed._ Use your magic and sense her. You will find that she is very much alive._

Murtagh felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment and tried to keep that emotion from Thorn. He felt a little ridiculous for assuming such a notion and even more so for voicing it to Thorn. Not to mention his disregard of his magic.

Thorn landed several yards in front of Blaze, but neither the dragon nor his Rider acknowledged their arrival. Murtagh jumped down from Thorn and rushed over to the pair. As he drew closer, he realized that Nurélia wasn't motionless as he first thought and was in fact thrashing side-to-side with an expression of pain that creased her usually smooth face.

"Blaze, what's wrong with her?" he asked the flame-orange dragon with immense concern, his eyes never straying from Nurélia. Blaze didn't answer, forcing Murtagh to glance in his direction. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be concentrating on something, as the ridges above his eyes were slanted down and his jaw was set. Murtagh let his question go and turned his attention back to Nurélia.

He felt so helpless just sitting there and decided that the only thing left for him to do was to delve into her mind and try to help that way. He probed his mind out for hers and slammed right into a steel wall. As he searched for a way through, he felt the wall pulsate, as though the wall itself was alive. This confused him greatly, but he didn't have much time to brood on the reason because a second later the wall gave a powerful surge outward. His mind ricocheted off the pulse as an arrow would a metal shield and forced him back, not only his mind, but his body as well.

Murtagh gazed up at the midmorning sky from the flat of his back. His head throbbed horribly, and it took him a few seconds to remember why. He slowly picked himself up from the ground, taking deep slow breaths to resist the urge to toss up his breakfast. A groan escaped with an exhaled breath, and he put his hand to his head, as though it being there would somehow stop the pain. Of course, it didn't.

"What happened?" he asked no one in particular. Thorn decided to answer.

_Well, when you foolishly tried to interfere, Galbatorix's barrier, the structure he put in Nurélia's mind to encase her true memories, exploded as Blaze and Nurélia forced it open. Your presence caught most of the blast's energy, which launched you backwards._

"Oh, how would you know?" Murtagh asked, irritated at his dragon's tone. He spoke as though he knew all along what was going to happen, and Murtagh highly doubted that was the case.

_I am a dragon,_ he said with arrogance._ We know everything._ Murtagh looked at him pointedly and raised an eyebrow. Blaze snorted, blowing huge puffs of smoke out his nose. Murtagh glanced his way, realizing just then that Blaze was aware of their presence and listening to the conversation.

_All right, so Blaze told me a few small details,_ Thorn said dismissively. _But it wasn't much._

"Right," Murtagh retorted with disbelief. He turned back to Blaze. "How is she?"

_The struggle to acquire control over her own mind left her exhausted. She is resting now,_ Blaze said.

Murtagh nodded his thanks and knelt by her side to wait. Her laying there triggered his memory of the first time he saw her unconscious. Although this time he wasn't the cause of her current state, he thought with satisfaction. A smile spread across his lips. She looked so peaceful sleeping there. After a few minutes, though, her skin was reddening and beads of sweat began to slide down her forehead. Murtagh noticed that he was also perspiring, as a bead slid down to his chin. It was still only midmorning, yet the heat of the Hadarac sun was already becoming intolerable. He asked Thorn to spread one of his wings over Nurélia to shield her from the sun. Thorn rolled his eyes but did as he was asked. Murtagh healed Nurélia's slightly burned skin and then dabbed her forehead with a cloth he soaked in his cold canteen water to keep her cool.

It was a little past noon when she first began to stir. He watched as her head moved from side-to-side far less vigorously than before, her eyes fluttering. They slowly opened, and it seemed to take a moment for them to focus. Her forehead crinkled, probably trying to figure out what he was doing here, but then she smiled. It was weak, but a smile nonetheless. He returned it with a grin of his own and helped her sit up, since she was struggling to do so. He braced her back with his arm, which made her lean into him a little. His heart gave a tiny leap, but he silently berated it, remembering how they took leave of each other only four nights ago.

"Perhaps it would be best if you lie back down," he suggested firmly but not unkindly. "You're too weak to hold yourself up."

"Yes," she whispered, her voice not strong enough for anything louder. "But you're doing a great job supporting me." It pained Murtagh to see her so frail and conveyed some of his energy into her, which even gave her pale cheeks some color. She gave him a grateful smile, but soon her expression grew remorseful. She stared into his eyes, her own beginning to well with unshed tears. "I – I'm so sorry for whatever I've said to you before, Murtagh. I didn't mean any of it. Galbatorix did something to me—"

"I know," he said gently. "It's all right."

"No, it isn't," she persisted, her gaze shifting down to her lap, which let the tears splash softly upon her hands. "I've said awful things. . . . And my apologies extend to you, too, Thorn," she said, turning to him. "I may not have said anything out loud, but I was thinking of some horrible things that I'm ashamed to admit."

_I thank you for your apology, Rider,_ Thorn replied. _But it is unnecessary. You were acting not of yourself, and none of what you were thinking was ever voiced. So, how I perceive it, it never happened._

"You see? It's all forgotten," Murtagh insisted. "As you said, Galbatorix persuaded you to act in such a way. I know what it feels like, believe me." Nurélia nodded, though Murtagh could tell she was still feeling guilty.

"Hey, it wasn't your fault," he said gently, lifting her chin so her eyes would meet his. They glistened from her tears though she was no longer crying. He picked up the wet cloth he used to dab her forehead, said a quick word to dry it and wiped her tear-streaked cheeks with the cloth while he spoke. "Besides, insults only go as deep as you let them. I knew the _real you_ didn't really mean what you said."

She smiled then, a genuine smile that made Murtagh's pulse quicken, and she reached her arms around him in an embrace. He gladly returned the hug, pleased to have her back in his arms, if only for a little while.

Nurélia pulled away asking, "Not that I'm complaining, Murtagh, but why are you here?"

"Thorn and I felt you tap into our shared power and figured there was only one reason why you would. We couldn't have you bring Galbatorix the very beings he would need to claim supreme ruler of Alagaësia, not to mention the last dragon egg—"

"Which gave me quite a surprise when I found it in Blaze's saddlebags," Nurélia cut in. Murtagh smiled.

"So we rushed to intercept, no matter the consequences. Yet when we arrived, we only found Blaze watching over your unconscious body," Murtagh finished. His last sentence was said more like a question for Nurélia to explain what had happened, which she picked up on.

"I did capture Eragon and Saphira," she began, "but Blaze merged their energy with his to free me from my enchantment. When they began forcing their way into my head, I felt that I had to redirect the power to work against them, which then made me no longer able to hold a powerful dragon and her Rider within the spell I had them under, and they escaped." Fear suddenly passed over her face.

"What is it?" Murtagh asked, concerned.

"If you felt the pull of our shared power, then that means Galbatorix did as well. He's going to expect me to return with them. . . . He's going to expect me to return at all, and I have no intention to."

"That was our plan in the beginning."

"I know," she said, apprehension flooding her voice. "But I'm worried what he will do to _you_ when neither his new Rider nor his enemies are before him within a couple of days."

"He told us not to return without them, right?" he said. Nurélia nodded. "So then Thorn and I will stay out of sight for however long it takes…" – his face fell – "or until he calls us back," he finished, his tone slightly dejected.

"Can you stay out of range?" Murtagh shook his head.

"Unfortunately, no. He can reach us anywhere in Alagaësia and Surda."

"So leave Alagaësia! Fly toward the Beors! I can't leave you knowing that monster can control you from his castle no matter where you are!" Nurélia cried out desperately. Murtagh sighed.

"I wish it was that simple. Our forced loyalties prevent us from leaving the Empire – other than Surda. If we attempt to leave, it could prove fatal."

Nurélia rose from the ground and began pacing – most of her energy obviously restored – undoubtedly trying to think of another way for him to be safe but came up empty. Defeated, she slumped next to Murtagh, who was watching her from his place on the ground. She turned to him, her expression almost completely diminished of all hope.

"Blaze and I can't think of anything. I'm sorry." Murtagh gave her a reassuring smile.

"It'll be all right. You just make sure you get that egg to Eragon and Saphira." Nurélia smiled halfheartedly and nodded.

"If they'll even give us a chance to explain," she replied, her voice dripping with doubt. "We really messed up." Blaze sighed deeply in agreement, smoke billowing out his nostrils.

_My sister's and my first meeting, and the image she has of me is a traitor._ Nurélia frowned in his direction, probably sharing his feeling of regret. His comment made Thorn perk up his head and Murtagh looked at Blaze questioningly.

"Saphira and you are related?"

_We share the same dam. I am uncertain if our sire was the same, though,_ Blaze explained.

Murtagh felt an envious feeling coming from Thorn. _Thorn? What is it?_ he asked him privately.

_What? Nothing,_ he answered, obviously hiding something.

_Come on, friend. I know it's something._

_I don't want to talk about it,_ he said with a hint of harshness in his voice, which Murtagh knew meant to back off.

_Okay,_ he replied gently. _I'm only concerned, is all._

_Well it's nothing to be concerned about._

"Thorn?" Nurélia asked. "Is something wrong?" Murtagh looked over at her. She must have noticed Thorn's discomfiture while they were talking. Thorn's answer was a low growl in Murtagh's direction, and then he leapt into the air. Nurélia turned to Murtagh with her hands on her hips.

"What did you do?" she asked accusingly.

"Nothing. He just doesn't want to talk about it."

_Maybe I can talk to him,_ Blaze suggested. Murtagh shrugged his shoulders.

"I suppose you can try, but he's really stubborn."

_So am I,_ he replied as he took off after Thorn.

… … … … …

Blaze wasn't flying long before he found the sulky red dragon with his wings outstretched, using the current to stay aloft.

_What do you want?_ Thorn asked roughly, not even bothering to look at Blaze.

_Can't I just fly around? It wasn't as though I was looking for you or anything,_ Blaze said. Thorn glanced at him with one big scarlet eye.

_You're a terrible liar,_ he retorted.

_Yes, well, I prefer to tell the truth, anyway. I did come after you, but no one sent me. I suggested to come. Murtagh even implied that I was wasting my time._ This made Thorn chuckle.

_He's right._

_Perhaps . . . What's on your mind?_

_Nothing,_ he replied nonchalantly.

_All right,_ Blaze said, thinking of a different tactic to get through to him. He told Nurélia what he was up to and closed off their connection. He said to Thorn, _Then you won't mind a little aerial combat training._ And he barreled over the smaller dragon, his massive back pounding into Thorn's, knocking him off balance and almost out of the sky. Thorn frantically tried to recover while Blaze chuckled at his spastic movements, but his laughter was cut short as the red dragon quickly regained his composure and slithered through the sky like a serpent in water, finally clamping onto Blaze's tail. Blaze let out a roar and swung his tail to his side, bringing the tightly latched on Thorn toward him. Blaze twisted around as Thorn neared and kicked out at him. One of his back limbs connected with Thorn's side, and, even though the smaller dragon groaned in pain, his jaws held firm on their quarry as a pit-bull would while dark red drops of blood trickled into his mouth, nose and eyes.

Blaze had enough. He drew a deep breath and whipped his head around, taking care to aim away from his tail. The bright orange fire that escaped his maw singed Thorn's end and finally made him release Blaze's tail, though now the blood flowed easier without Thorn's teeth blocking its path through the wounds. Blaze shrugged off the pain - it really wasn't that bad after all, but he was thankful Nurélia couldn't feel what he was at the moment - and grinned at Thorn.

_What's the matter? Can't stand the heat?_ Blaze teased.

_That wasn't fair; I can't breathe fire for another two months or so._

_Oh, that's too bad for you,_ Blaze said in a mockingly sympathetic tone, and then laughed. Thorn sped after him to which Blaze looped out of the way, twisted around and dove toward – an empty sky? Confused, Blaze halted in mid-air.

_Looking for me?_ He heard Thorn call just before he felt two powerful kicks in his back. Blaze growled and took after him, but Thorn only laughed.

_Let us see if you can keep up, old timer,_ Thorn teased.

_After you, hatchling,_ he retorted.

Thorn smiled showing all of his sharp, ivory teeth, and shot forward twisting, looping, diving, and feinting. However, Blaze was too bulky to follow Thorn's smaller, more lithe form – which Thorn must have realized, because he began to perform more intricate styles and tighter loops. He laughed when he caught Blaze taking a short-cut through one of the forms.

_You need to cut back on your intake of food, _large_ one. Otherwise, you won't ever be able to keep up with this 'hatchling',_ Thorn gloated.

_Perhaps, but I'm far faster in a race. I've had more time to strengthen my wings than you._

_Well, your wings would _have_ to be strong to keep _your_ massive size in the air; though I'm not too sure they're powerful enough to keep you up _and_ finish before I do, _Thorn threw back, laughing.

Blaze smiled slyly at the comment, knowing he could win without any problems. _We will see who is laughing at the edge of the forest,_ he replied calmly, knowing the distance ranged from 15 to 20 leagues, meaning about 45 to 60 miles.

_Very true. Although, don't be too disappointed when you hear my laughter from leagues ahead of you,_ he said and hurled forward in the direction of the forest.

Blaze smiled widely as he watched the red dragon speed off. This is what he lived for! At his fastest, he could cover a league in less than three minutes, and it took hundreds of leagues to tire him out. This race was going to be too easy. He surged after Thorn, his wings slicing through the cool air while the ground blurred beneath him.

The first couple leagues passed by without any sign of the young dragon, but then Blaze saw a little red dot in the sky that was growing bigger and bigger with each beat of his enormous wings. Within a couple of minutes, and before Thorn realized it, Blaze was right behind him, only a little below so Thorn wouldn't see him if he looked back over his shoulder. When Blaze was parallel with him less than a minute later, he flew up to Thorn's eye level, startling him. Thorn faltered for a tenth of a second, but that was all Blaze needed to lurch forward and take the lead. The sudden loss of his place gave Thorn a burst of energy to where he was dead even with the fire-colored dragon. Blaze looked over at him, gave him a huge grin and responded to Thorn's burst of energy with one of his own, leaving Thorn behind.

At the edge of the forest, Blaze landed, gouging four huge holes in the dirt, and waited patiently for Thorn to catch up. He really didn't have to wait too long, but Thorn did seem quite a bit slower than he was when Blaze passed him. Thorn landed gracefully in front of him only seeming slightly out of breath.

_All right. I'll admit it. You're definitely faster,_ Thorn said. His large red eyes scrutinized Blaze. _And you don't even look like all those leagues fazed you at all!_

_Like I said, I've had more practice. Nurélia's grandmother made me practice for hours and over long distances, having me try to beat my best time. She also taught me how to breathe._

_What?_ Thorn asked, puzzled. _How to breathe? What do you mean?_

_There is a certain way to breathe when you fly so that you may cover more distance without tiring so quickly. You are fast, as well, Thorn. You just need to learn how to breathe._

_All right, then teach me,_ Thorn said, eager to learn.

_It's very simple,_ Blaze began._ When you raise your wings, breathe in, and then when you bring them down, breathe out._

_That's it?_ Thorn asked incredulously.

_I told you it was simple. It makes all the difference, though. Trust me._ Thorn nodded his head once in answer. _Come,_ Blaze said. _Let us hunt. All that flying made me hungry._ Blaze leapt up and flew over the trees of the forest. Thorn shook his head and laughed as he followed him.

… … … … …

Nurélia hummed to herself while she set up camp, realizing that there was a good chance that Blaze and Thorn might be gone for the rest of the day. She was glad she took off his saddle and the saddlebags before he took off after Thorn. What he was planning sounded destructive. Not to mention, everything she would need for camp was in the bags.

Murtagh decided to help, but he soon stopped and watched her instead. She glanced at him after sensing his eyes on her and then ignored him for a few minutes until he started laughing. Her eyebrows met in confusion and she suddenly became self-conscious, though unsure exactly why.

"What?" she asked. He ceased his laughing but an amused smile stayed upon his lips.

"Oh, nothing," he said nonchalantly. She narrowed her eyes at him and tried to ignore him again, but as soon as she turned her back on him, he chuckled to himself. She whirled around to glare at him again.

"What?!" she yelled. Murtagh shrugged his shoulders.

"I've just never met an elf that was tone deaf, that's all," he said, the smile never leaving his face. Nurélia forced back her own smile that was trying to escape. It was an ongoing joke with her grandmother that Nurélia couldn't sing, and she took it in stride. She knew the irony of the situation, seeing as elves sing everything they make. There was no way Nurélia would ever be able to sing anything into, well, anything.

"I'm only part elf," she reminded him, picking up a pot for the vegetable stew she was going to cook for her midday meal.

"And apparently not the part where you can keep a tune," he continued.

"Can _you_ sing?" she threw back. It wiped the smile off his face.

"It depends on the song," he answered unconvincingly.

"If you can't sing any better, then I suggest you keep quiet, unless you want to start something you wouldn't be able to handle," Nurélia threatened, closing the distance between them so she would be close enough to hit him with the pot she still held, yet far enough without him reaching for her.

Murtagh gazed at her, another smile playing on his lips. He forgot how much he enjoyed making her mad. The fire in her eyes brightened their color, while her voice grew low and enticing.

"Really? And who would enforce such an impossible situation? Surely not you," he replied quite arrogantly.

"Don't tempt me," she retorted, her fingers itching to do some magic, making the pot in her hand vibrate ever so slightly. She raced through spells in her head and settled on one to immobilize him so she could smack him upside the head. She knew he was only doing this to irritate her, but it was working no matter how much she tried not to let him get to her.

"Tempt?" Murtagh said with a sly smile and gently lifted the pot from her hand. "Interesting word choice."

Nurélia's breathing quickened. He was so close. Close enough for her to see every fleck of red from the bond with his dragon in his dark, imposing eyes. Close enough to smell his appealing scent of sweet musk, sweat and a hint of earth. Close enough to hear every irregular breath that escaped his slightly open mouth. Her thoughts began to muddle as she took every detail of him in, remembering how much she cared for him before Galbatorix's interference. She wondered if he still felt the same way, though she had a strong suspicion that he did, considering their mere inches apart. And then without another thought, she tasted the salty sweetness of his lips upon hers – along with a jolting shock of energy right after. Murtagh jumped back.

"Ouch!" he cried out, his fingers pressed to his lips. "What was that?"

She had to admit that the kiss was quite a surprise. She barely assessed her feelings for him before he ardently revealed his. But the jolt of energy wasn't as 'shocking' to her as it was to him. Nurélia tightened her lips, her eyes shining with mischief. "Well, I _was_ building my magic for a spell to inflict upon you before you surprised me with your kiss. The shock was merely a reaction from all the pent up energy. It needed an outlet," she said casually and with a shrug of her shoulder. It took a great deal of concentration to keep her expression indifferent when her stomach was still squirming from the gentle touch of his lips.

Murtagh smirked. "Was I really irritating you that much?"

Nurélia narrowed her eyes at him. "You really have to ask?" He laughed.

"Well maybe you shouldn't be such an easy target."

"I'm not," she denied. He raised an eyebrow, and a light blush filled her cheeks. "Not usually, anyway. You just seem to know how to stretch my temper thinner than anyone I've ever met."

"You know what people say about those who are easily bothered by one person in particular," Murtagh said with a roguish glint in his eyes. "And it's _especially_ true about the person causing the annoyance – excluding family, of course. Everyone has at least one family member whom annoys them."

"What do 'people' say?" Nurélia asked cautiously, knowing he was going to reply with something where she would regret asking.

Murtagh casually replied with "Only that your immediate infuriation is because your passion for me – how did you put it? – 'needs an outlet', and given the situation, you can only yell at me instead of doing what you really want to do."

"Really? And what is that?" Nurélia asked with indifference.

"You would rather kiss me."

"Wow! You are so right!"" she exclaimed sarcastically. "That's exactly what I want to do when you're telling me I can't sing to save my life."

"I knew it," he said. She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips. She turned away only to be pulled gently back. "Here," he said. "Let me help you realize how right I am." And then he pulled her into a kiss. Nurélia let herself give in while the pot for her meal lay forgotten on the ground.

… … … … …

When the two dragons both had their fill of the forest game, they stretched out to bask in the sun. Thorn looked over at Blaze; the larger dragon had his eyes closed, reveling in the heat.

Thorn sighed. _I'm not very good with sharing feelings, not even with Murtagh. He just usually feels what I'm feeling, so I don't have to talk about it,_ he finally said. Blaze half-opened one eye to gaze at him for a second and then lazily closed it again. _In fact,_ Thorn continued,_ it makes me very uncomfortable._

_Perhaps it's easier when one has a female Rider,_ Blaze suggested. _I have no troubles expressing myself with Nurélia._

_Possibly._

He was silent for a while longer. Blaze didn't mind. He let the smaller dragon gather his thoughts and waited until Thorn was ready to speak, as Blaze knew he would. It was the oldest trick in the books – to act like one wasn't interested and then wait patiently for the other to speak.

_When I hatched for Murtagh,_ Thorn began,_ all I knew outside of my shell was that he was the one whom I was destined. If I would have known what our destiny implied, I would have fought to stay inside my egg. But you know how it's like when your Rider touches your shell; it's as though a bolt of energy passes through you, and you just know that this person and you will do great things. A few weeks later, I realized the horrible mistake my hatching for Murtagh brought upon our kind, and I knew my actions wouldn't - couldn't - ever be justified._

Blaze knew this wasn't why Thorn was upset earlier but let him continue. It pertained to a deeper issue in which the young dragon was struggling, and perhaps he would feel better if he disclosed his apprehension with someone he knew he could trust: another dragon.

_. . . I don't ever _want_ to do _half_ the tasks the Dark King commands of us, and Murtagh struggles with our oaths to him everyday. He is the one that suffers the most, I think. Working under the king and betraying his own brother has taken a great toll on him._

Blaze perked up his head. _Who is his brother?_ Blaze asked, though he had a suspicion.

Thorn's eyes grew wide, and Blaze knew the hatchling had accidentally given him information Murtagh didn't want him and Nurélia to know just yet, if at all.

_I can't say. Murtagh would want to tell Nurélia in his own time. I know you would be able to block her from knowing, but I'm sworn to secrecy._

_I understand,_ Blaze said, dropping his head to the warm ground again. _I will not pry. I have a strong idea whom he might be, anyway,_ he added with a smirk, watching Thorn's expression grow even more troubled.

_You won't tell Nurélia, will you?_

_No, and I will even act surprised when he tells us the youngest Dragon Rider is his brother._

_How did you guess?_

_What?! Guess? _Blaze said, only teasing that he was offended. _How dare you assume I guessed!_ _Dragon's know everything, remember?_

Thorn laughed. _Oh, yes, of course. _

_. . . Speaking of Eragon,"_ Blaze persisted gently, hoping the young dragon wouldn't settle into silence again. _I presume that my telling of his dragon's and my relation came as a bit of a shock._ He figured this was the reason, or at least the start of the reason, why Thorn acted the way he did earlier, considering his reaction when Blaze mentioned it, and he thought it best to withhold Saphira's name. Thorn turned his head to where both of his scarlet eyes were staring piercingly at Blaze, almost in warning. Blaze ignored the stare and continued. _It would have surprised me as well, if I didn't already know before Nurélia and I sailed here. I'm terrified with how she will react when I tell her, seeing as how I am now an enemy in her eyes._

Thorn's intense stare mixed with a bit of confusion. _She doesn't know?_

_No,_ Blaze answered, not unkindly._ How could she? It isn't as though we share a telekinetic connection, or anything even remotely similar. The single thing we share is blood, and it might only be half. _Thorn softened his stare a little. _The only way _I _even know is because I was told by Nurélia's grandmother, and she was told by none other than my dam herself before she perished under the Galbatorix's hand._

_Besides, _Blaze continued, _it isn't as though we would need a unique bond like those we share with our Riders. Dragons have our own distinct way of contact, don't we?_

Thorn shifted his gaze to a tree on Blaze's left, though not really seeing it. _Yes,_ he said after a while,_ but I have no brethren related by blood. _

_Is that all you are bothered by?_ Blaze asked, incredulously. Those intense scarlet eyes stared into him again. _Listen,_ Blaze began, _it is true that Saphira and I have a blood connection, but in all honesty, I feel that my bond with you is much stronger. Saphira is a stranger to me, but you, and Murtagh, of course, are my only friends here in this strange new land. I feel as though we are brothers, despite the blood we do not share. _

_You do?_ Thorn asked, his tone eager.

_Yes, I do. I only wish you could, as well. We are all connected, really, us dragons and our Riders. Nurélia is my Rider, my sister is Saphira, her Rider is Eragon, Eragon and Murtagh are brothers, and Murtagh is your Rider. And, if I'm not mistaken, your Murtagh and my Nurélia are forming their own type of bond, which will make our bond even stronger._

Thorn was silent for a while, letting Blaze's words sink in. _That's true. We are all connected, aren't we?_ he said, elated. The little dragon had only known fear and vengeance from the moment he hatched; this new feeling of acceptance from someone other than his Rider was different and inviting. Blaze thought of him as a brother, not just some expendable partner he was only tolerating for the sake of appearances, as Thorn once thought Blaze perceived him. A weird feeling bubbled in his stomach. He scrounged for words trying to convey the foreign way his body was reacting and could only do so by Murtagh's memories. Thorn was _happy_, genuinely happy with no restraint. He'd never experienced happiness before, growing up in such a dreary place with a wicked king and his surly dragon. Even Murtagh was sullen most of the time because of their situation, before Nurélia stepped into his life, of course.

_We should head back,_ Blaze said, scooping up from a tree a paw full of some type of fruit he thought Nurélia might enjoy and jumped into the air. It would have been easier to take the entire tree, but he knew Nurélia would frown upon his destroying a life, and especially just for convenience, so he decided against it. Thorn followed him, but instead carried a good sized buck for Murtagh. Blaze eyed the buck hungrily, though he ate only about an hour ago, and hoped that Murtagh would give him half. The small human couldn't eat all of it, right? Or maybe he could just take a few more minutes to hunt for another.

Yeah. He liked that idea.

But, no. It was already getting quite late and Nurélia would grow worried. They'd better leave now.

It took great concentration for Blaze to finally focus. _Now, remember what I told you, _Blaze said to Thorn. _Wings up, inhale—_

_Wings down, exhale,_ Thorn finished and shot ahead of him. Blaze let him go, not even trying to catch up to the younger dragon. His thoughts turned to a different and more important matter than which dragon arrived at the camp first, even to call first claim for the rest of the buck Murtagh didn't eat.

He and Nurélia needed to think of a way to persuade Saphira and her Rider to listen to them. Not only that, but to also convince the two where his and Nurélia's allegiance truly belonged. It was going to be difficult, but hopefully they'll give them a chance to explain.

* * *

I know this is kind of a filler chapter, but I wanted to portray the brotherly bond between Blaze and Thorn better. Hope it wasn't too much of a bore to read. _Chapter Twenty_ will well make up for it. :)

Nurélia and Blaze meet Eragon and Saphira in the next chapter! Will the two let Nurélia and Blaze explain themselves without conflict? Or will our heroine and her dragon have to take matters to another level?

Review, please!

For my anonymous reviewers:

**Lady-Valiant** – Thank you! Everyone has an evil side, I say, whether it large, small, or provoked. :)

**Kira Vulpes** – I'm so so so sorry for the almost seventeen month update and after such an ending to the last chapter! I'll be surprised if anyone comes back to this story. :)

**Bandgirlflute** – Thanks! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter as well! . . . If you read it, anyway. :)

**sacred pools** – Thank you so much! I will try to update sooner. :)


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